HEAVEN REVISED. 



.\ Narrative of Personal Experiences After 
THE Change called Death. 



BY 

V 

Mrs. E. n. DUFFEY, 
author oi "what women should know," 



relations of the sexes, "no 



5 



SEX IN EDUCATION," ETC. 



And (I voice said \tnto in<\ irritc.'' " It sfiall be (jiveti ymi in that name 
hour icfmt i/e shall speak." 



CHICAGO: 

REr.IQIO-PHILOSOPHICAU PUBLISHING HouSE, 

1SS9. 



mm 



HEAVEN REVISED. 



A Narrative of Personal Experiences After 
THE Change called Death. 




BY 

Mrs. EVB.^^bUFFEY, 

author of "what women should know," 

"relations of the sexes," "no 

sex in education," etc. 






'Uiiyil 



'^And a voice said unto me, ivrite." " It shall be given ycni in that same 
hour what ye shall speak." 



CHICAGO: 
Religio-Philosophical Publishing House, 
1889. 
£0 



9)^- 



Copyright, 1889. 
By Religio-Philosophical PuBLf^iNG House. 




CONTENTS. 



Introduction. • 

Chapter I. Death. ---.... i 

Chapter II. The Grave and the Resurrection. - w 11 
Chapter III. The Day of Judgment and the House not 

Made with Hands. --.-.. 23 

Chapter IV. But are as the Angels. - - - 81 

Chapter V. Into the Depths. ----- 43 

Chapter VI. Work, Device, Knowledge and Wisdom. 55 

Chapter VII. Blessed Are the Pure in Heart. - - 63 

Chapter VIII. Lo ! a Great Multitude. - - - 77 

Chapter IX. Fit Temples for Holy Spirits. - - 87 

Chapter X. The Field is the World. - - - 96 



INTRODUCTION. 



Old theology has created for the belief of its adherents a 
future of its own : a heaven of harps and crowns, idleness, palm- 
bearing and perpetual psalm-singing, to enjoy which even the 
most devout Christian understands that his nature must be 
wholly changed ; and a hell of physical torture to which the 
majority of mankind are condemned to infinite punishment for 
finite transgressions. It is a picture of the future, wearying on 
the one hand and appalling on the other — the paradise of a fool, 
the pandemonium of a demon. 

It is the mission of Spiritualism, with its direct communi- 
cation with the inhabitants of both the higher and the lower 
spheres, to revise these conceptions of the future, and bring 
them more in harmony with reason and common sense, justice 
and mercy; to recognize the law of progress as the law of the 
spiritual as well as of the material universe, and to set the star 
of hope in the zenith of even the deepest hell ; and this is what 
is meant by the title which this story takes. 

I did not think out my narrative; I did not plan or plot. 
I could not have known less of what was to be written had I 
been writing at the dictation of another. The ideas were not 
gathered from various sources, for at that time I had heard little 
and read less upon the subject of Spiritualism. I had but a 
superficial acquaintance with the philosophy of Spiritualism, as 
I was a convert of but a year; and often I was puzzled to know 
whether what I recorded was strictly in harmony with spiritu- 



INTRODUCTION. 

alistic teachings. This was especially true of the chapter 
entitled, "Into the Depths." During the entire period in which 
I was engaged in this writing — some three or four months — I 
lived and moved in a sort of dream. Nothing seemed real to 
me. Personal troubles did not seem to pain me. I felt as 
though I had taken a mental anaesthetic. I finished the work 
one Saturday evening. On Sunday evening I spoke as usual 
before our sjDiritual society. On Monday morning I awoke for 
the first time my usual self. Real life had come back to me. 

I believe that I wrote through unseen assistance, but I 
hesitate to ask others to endorse this belief. I hesitate even to 
express it, realizing as I do how often well-intentioned Spirit- 
ualists mistakingly attribute to the Spirit-world that which 
emanates only in their own too often ignorant and ill-informed 
minds. I know how difficult it is to draw the line between one's 
own thoughts and impressions, and those which result from 
inspiration from higher sources. 

The reader must decide for himself. If he be a believer in 
spirit inspiration, he will accept my own belief, and think that 
"Heaven Revised" was written inspirationally. If he be a 
skeptic, and hesitates to do this, he will be only sharing the 
doubts and questionings which sometimes possess myself. 

Bartow, Fla. Mrs. E. B. Duffy. 



Heaven Revised. 



A Narrative of Personal Experiences 

After the Change Called 

Death. 



CHAPTER I. 

DEATH. 

I am a traveler, and having passed the first stage of my 
journey, and being now fairly set out upon my second, the im- 
pulse seizes me, as it seizes upon all who have left dear friends 
behind, to let them hear from me — to write them a letter, tell- 
ing of the new things I have seen, the strange experiences en- 
countered. One of earth's famous poets has spoken of that land 
in which I am journeying as the "bourne from whence no travel- 
er returns." That is true in a certain sense. We cannot re- 
turn to take up our old lives again, to resume our old relations, 
and assume our old duties. We have struck our tents and pass- 
ed on — into the inevitable future which awaits us. You may 
not even behold us, until you, too, join us, the first stage of 
your journey left behind; but we may send you messages; we 
may impress your minds with pictures of ourselves, both as we 
have been and as we are, which shall be so vivid that you may 
be excused for mistaking them for realities. But they are, af- 
ter all, only faint images of the real living personalities which 



2 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

still exist, and amid their changed conditions still preserve 
their identity. 

We may, too, write you letters ; for in this nineteenth cen- 
tury a postal system has been established between the here and 
there, the is and the was, which makes communication possi- 
ble. That which for ages has seemed the greatest difficulty — 
how to send a letter — has been conquered, only to find a still 
greater one rising up behind it — how to write a letter which 
shall be intelligible; how to transcribe conditions and translate 
ideas into a language which shall be comprehensible to you. 

Alas ! my dear friends, I shall, I fear, be able only to give 
you a shadowy idea of this newly discovered country, which is, 
after all, the real, while your earth is but the shadow and pro- 
totype. Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it en- 
tered into the heart of man to conceive of that which is in this 
land beyond the grave. 

In looking back from where I now stand, I cannot but 
wonder that the earth-life assumed such importance. The per- 
spective is entirely changed. Much of that which, in the first 
stage of my journey, seemed of the greatest magnitude, has 
strangely dwindled in its proportions; and apparently every- 
thing concerning it has taken on a new coloring and a new 
meaning. The reason is that now I begin to perceive, from my 
present position, the true relations of all earthly conditions and 
happenings. When I was in the midst of them, I gained only 
narrow and distorted glimpses. Those nearest me were mag- 
nified beyond reality; those at a distance dwarfed in like de- 
gree. Thus even I, who prided myself upon being a close and 
correct observer, a careful analyzer of all that came under my 
observation, and a deep and original thinker, have been over- 
whelmed with astonishment, not to say chagrin, in discovering 
how little I knew of even the surface life around me — how still 
less of that deeper and inner life which is the real and actuat- 
ing power of humanity, but of whose existence there is so little 
realization until it comes to the surface here. 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 3 

But I did not set out to either moralize or philosophize in 
writing this letter; though I dare say I shall unwittingly do 
enough of both before I have finished it; otherwise I should 
not be true to my own character; but I will suppress the im- 
pulse for the present, and tell you of the first stage of my jour- 
ney, that stage which you call death. 

Of the mere happenings of my earthly life, what matters 
it? What I am is of the only importance ; by what means my 
character was disciplined, my intelligence cultivated, possibly 
my nature warped in some ways, are of no moment. When you 
behold a gem, you admire its beauties and deplore its flaws ; 
but it never occurs to you to inquire about the processes by 
which the lapidary polished it. I am what I am. I shall be 
some day — a day so far distant in the unending ages of eternity 
that it seems no nearer to me than to you, save as a clearer com- 
prehension of the fact brings it with fuller force to my mind — 
united with the great source of power, wisdom and love, which 
overshadows and permeates the universe, my identity lost in all 
save memory, which shall forever individualize every soul that 
has lived and suffered. When memory goes, then comes anni- 
hilation ; but there is no such thing as annihilation in this vast 
universe. 

I lived, I toiled, I suffered, I loved, I struggled with tempta- 
tions, and I sometimes sinned — the common lot of humanity. In 
these words may be summed up, not only my earthly existence, 
but that of most mortals. For those to whom any of these expe- 
riences are not given in the earth life, they are reserved in full- 
er measure in the life into which I have now entered. 

I knew that I was standing face to face with death, but I 
did not tremble nor shrink. The terrors of orthodoxy had long 
lost their hold upon me, and I was prepared to meet the inevi- 
table change like a philosopher. Nay, more ; I was prepared 
to watch its approach and analyze its effect upon myself, with 
all the enthusiasm of a student who did not wish to miss this 
one supreme opportunity to gain knowledge which had hither- 



4: A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

to eluded the grasp of mortals. I would be calm, and note 
death's approach, step by step. If it were possible to me, 
I would impart my newly acquired knowledge to others, and, 
perhaps, do mankind a service by robbing this dread hour of its 
terrors. 

Earth would fade away, and 1 seemed to be floating out in- 
to an unknown realm of existence ; of all that which I expected 
to remember at this hour, nothing occurred to me. There was 
no review of my life, such as I had read about ; no thought of 
either past or future ; only this one feeling, which sprung up in 
my heart to the exclusion of all else — my loved ones ! I had 
not regarded myself as an excessively affectionate woman. Reas- 
on had been trained to govern all my impulses and emotions, 
and I truly believe my life-work had been better performed in 
consequence. But in this last hour love seemed the sum and 
substance — all that was worth cherishing — of life. Then would 
suddenly come back to me a remembrance of the task to which 
I bad set myself, and in striving to accomplish it, my will, 
which was always strong, and was strong even in death, would 
rally my life-forces, and thus defeat its own object. As I had 
all my life fought and struggled, and sought to attain the unat- 
tainable, so, true, to my nature, I would not even allow myself 
to die in peace, but all unwittingly prolonged and postponed 
the hour. 

At last 1 became wearied, and fell into a sweet sleep, a 
sleep so restful that in the half-consciousness which preceded 
the moment of complete unconsciousness, I remembered that 
in all my life I had experienced but one or two as perfect and 
satisfying. For such a sleep I was contented even to postpone 
the hour of death. 

When I awoke it was with that almost guilty sense of one 
who feels that he has slept longer than custom or prejudice 
sanctions ; and for the instant I was glad that I was very ill, 
that such an indiscretion might be forgiven me. The waking 
was even sweeter than the sleeping. I did not care to open my 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 5 

eyes, but lay filled with a sense of peace and rest — peace and 
rest — such as in the long, weary years of my life I had dreamed 
of and longed for, but never before experienced. How sweet 
was the rest, how perfect the peace ! If it only might endure for- 
ever! But I was better. "I was not to die after all, and I must 
presently submit to the old bondage, and again know the wear- 
iness and unquiet of life. Presently I became aware that there 
was a sound of subdued voices in conversation in an adjoining 
room. Though I could hear them plainly through the open 
door, at first I gathered no sense of what they were saying; 
and then as I became more fully awake, I heard a sentence 
which fixed my attention in an idle way : 

" I have no doubt she nibantwell; but, then, she was so very 
peculiar." 

The response came : " Yes, very ; and very set in her way." 

Again the first speaker: "Slie saw a great deal of trouble, 
but I have no doubt she brought much of it on herself. You al- 
most always find that that is the case." 

" That is so. Why, I kaow ," and then followed a 

grotesquely distorted narration of certain incidents in my own 
life. 

I was startled. Of whom were they speaking? Of me — 
me? "She was?" What did it all mean? Did they really 
think me dead? With a guilty consciousness of having play- 
ed eavesdrojDper, I hastened to call one of the speakers by 
name, to assure her that I was still in the land of the living. 
They were both neighbors, and I knew them well. She paid 
no heed to my voice, and the conversation went on without in- 
terruption. Again I spoke louder than before, and still they 
heeded not. I was now aroused to the fullest mental activitj'-, 
and utterly forgetful of my supposed enfeebled condition, 
started up to manifest myself to them in some manner which 
should secure their silence, when 

For an instant I seemed frozen with terror, or something 
akin to it, by a strange object which met my view. What was 



6 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

that iQ my chamber, my chamber where I lay so ill — that object 
lying rigid and white, in the familiar yet ever repulsive atti- 
tude of death? There were the outlines of the head, the pro- 
jection of the arms crossed upon the breast, the extended limbs, 
and the upturned feet. Over all was thrown a white sheet; but 
with a new experience in vision, as I looked at it my sight 
seemed to penetrate beneath the snowy pall, and I recognized 
my own features. My God! was I then really dead? How 
can I describe to you the emotion which swept through me, 
and which seemed to shake my whole being to its very center? 
Then, and not till then, did the past sweep like a wave over me, 
and all that I had been taught and hoped and feared of the great 
transition, and the life which was to follow it, seemed to come 
out in my memory with unparalleled distinctness. It was a 
solemn, an awful moment. The terror passed as soon as it 
came, but its solemnity impressed itself upon me. Yet you 
will scarcely believe it that the next sensation was one of mirth. 
Then I was playing eavesdropper in spite of myself; and veri- 
fying the truth of the adage that listeners never hear any good 
of themselves, while I wondered in grim humor if the act under 
the circumstances in which I was placed, were as dishonorable 
as if I were still alive. 

As in the earth-life the sublime frequently borders upon the 
ridiculous, and there is often but a single step from solemnity 
to mirth, from joy to sorrow, from hope to despair, and all this 
that our characters may acquire their proper equilibrium ; so my 
first experience in the Spirit-world was of the same nature. 

I could not silence those babbling women, and so I let 
them talk, and for the first time in my existence, had an oppor- 
tunity to see myself as others see me. Well, the lesson was a 
good one, and not without its uses, even though I had passed 
beyond the influences and conditions of earth. It held up an 
imperfect mirror before my spiritual vision in which my de- 
fects of character were brought into greater prominence by dis- 
tortion ; and thus the first lesson was imjDarted to me. 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATE. 7 

After a time the impulse seized them to look upon the face 
of the dead whose character they were dissecting so candidly, 
not to say mercilessly. We were a group of three, although one 
was invisible to the other two. As they were unconscious of 
my presence, so I soon forgot theirs, wliile I looked with a 
strange wonder upon the form of that which had once been I. 
As I regarded the pale worn features, and with invisible hand 
smoothed back the grizzled hair from the forehead, an ineffable 
pity filled my soul for mj old self, which now seemed separat- 
ed and apart from my present one. In my life I had affected 
to scorn the earthly tenement which imprisoned my soul. But 
when I gazed upon it dispassionately from an outside stand- 
point another feeling overwhelmed me. How wan, how worn 
it looked ! How heavy were the lines of care upon brow and 
cheek ! How the hair had whitened ! How the body had strug- 
gled and suffered, and toiled for the spirit within — always los- 
ing — always losing — first youth and beauty, and then health 
and strength, in the service of that spirit; and at last when the 
soul stood triumphant in a newer and fuller life, a complete vic- 
tor over body — that body had met its final and greatest loss, in 
that it had lost the life which had animated it. No longer should 
it love, or suffer, or toil. It was completely vanquished, and 
yielded all that it had to give. With a new-born love and pity for 
self, which were as unselfish as though they had been expended 
upon another, and with a reverential feeling as well, I tenderly 
kissed the cold brow, and in that moment forgave it all for 
which I had reproached it in the past: for its weaknesses which 
had crippled my spirit; its imperfections which had warped it; 
its limitations which had chained it. Surely in that moment 
of triumph over mortality I could afford to be generous. More 
difficult still, I could be just. I realized and acknowledged how, 
even through the infirmities of the physical frame, my spirit 
had been strengthened and disciplined. 

Then I was dead ! How strange it seemed to be dead, and 
yet with such superabundant life ! How mortals misapprehend 



8 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

the meaning of the word. To be dead means to be alive with 
a vitality earthly humanity does not know. How long had I 
been dead? It seemed to be early morning. The watchers 
were silent, having dozed off to sleep in their arm-chairs. The 
rays of the lamp were paling before the light of the approaching 
day, which was heralded in the east by scarlet banners flung 
across the sky. When I had fallen asleep — into that peaceful 
sleep from which I had wakened in another world — the night 
had been far spent. I must have passed away at the ebb of the 
tide, when day was struggling with darkness, and nature itself 
was at its lowest ebb. I had probably been dead twenty-four 
hours. I had fallen asleep on earth ; I had awakened in the land 
of spirits. 

The land of spirits ! Strange as it may seem, I for the first 
time realized this fact. My thoughts and emotions up to this 
point had all been connected in some way with the world and 
the life I had left behind me. But where were the spirit forms 
of the loved ones who had passed on before, and whom I had 
expected to meet me at the gateway, and to welcome and guide 
me into the life eternal? On the threshold of this new life I 
felt no fear at my seeming isolation, but a sense of disappoint- 
ment and loneliness, and of bewilderment also, stole over me. 
Even as these thoughts passed through my mind, the room and 
all it contained seemed to dissolve before me. I found myself 
upon a great plain which gently inclined toward a valley 
through the depths of which flowed a stream. I cannot describe 
the beauty of the scene. Earth is beautiful, and its beauties 
found their way to my heart ; but the Spirit- world is far more 
so. The scene seemed strangely familiar. It was so like, and 
yet so unlike, an earthly valley, where I had spent many happy 
hours — perhaps the happiest of my life. It seemed, indeed, the 
earthly valley glorified and spiritualized, as who shall say that 
it was not? The grass was intensely yet softly green, and starr- 
ed with myriads of daisies. When last I had beheld the earth- 
ly valley, it was still beautiful, but it had the beauty of death, 



AFTEE THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 9 

that sent a chill to my heart, and over it there hung a pall of 
cloud which completely enshrouded its depths. But my valley 
was resurrected, and was mine evermore. 

I was walking, but strange to say my feet did not touch the 
ground. I walked along just above the surface of the earth, 
just as I had done many times in dreams — the realest dreams I 
ever had. What a strange sensation it was to be freed from the 
weight of the earthly body — to be released from the physical 
law of the attraction of gravitation ! I felt that I might rise to 
any height to which I aspired, yet was content for the present 
to keep near the ground. 

But my friends — my spirit friends — where were they? 
Why was I thus so isolated in my new life? I was not conscious 
of having uttered a thought aloud, but as if in response to it, I 
found myself in the presence of two youths whose radiant coun- 
tenances possessed more than mortal beauty. Years ago I had 
laid away with an aching heart and many bitter tears, two beau- 
tiful babes, first one and then another; and many times thereaf- 
ter I stretched out my arms with soul-felt longing towards the 
unknotvn land whither they had gone, as if to reach to them and 
bring them back to me. But when I clasped my arms to my 
breast again, they were always empty. My babes, how I had 
longed for them, yearned for them ! They had always been 
babes to me in my memory, little tender clinging things, find- 
ing their whole world in mother-love. But when I beheld these 
youths beside me, some subtle instinct revealed to me that they 
were my babes, now nearly grown to manhood. I felt neither 
hesitation nor surprise in the recognition. It was as though I 
had always expected them to appear thus to me. I only held 
out my arms with an unutterably glad impulse, crying, " My 
boys ! Mine ! " 

Is there a more contentful, more blissful word in our lan- 
guage — in any language — than that word "mine"? Whether 
we say it of child, friend or lover, home or heaven, we have ex- 
pressed the supremest emotion of our hearts. It indicates the 



10 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

fullest fruition of our hopes and desires, whether they be wor- 
thy ones or unworthy ones. Barren and pitiful indeed is the 
life of that wretch who can not say " mine " of some joy, some 
hope, or some love. It is the first feeling of the infant heart 
when it begins to realize its possession of motherly tenderness 
and care, long before it can give the feeling its appropriate word. 
It will be the ultimate emotion of the soul, when, having passed 
through the cycles of eternity, it shall at last have reached the 
center and source of all, and shall be able to say of infinite wis- 
dom and love, " mine " ! 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 11 



CHAPTER II. 



THE GRAVE AND THE RESURRECTION. 

My lost ones were in my arms, and for a time my soul was 
filled with a bliss too deep for words. At last emotions strug- 
gled into utterance. 

" Our mother ! " were the glad words I heard from lips 
which had never learned to pronounce them in their brief earth 
lives, and then there were eager questionings and glad responses. 

"We have been with you, mother," said the elder, 
" through all these years. Daily we have visited y^u. We have 
nestled in your arm. You never called us that we did not come, 
x^nd we spoke to you, and tried to comfort you, but you did 
not always hear us ; and sometimes when our messages reached 
your heart, you did not comprehend from whom they came. You 
have been our mother still, our helper and our guide; and we in 
turn have helped and guided you as far as lay in our power, as 
we could not have done had we remained with you on earth. 
As far as we could understand your troubles we have helped you 
to bear them. When they were beyond our comprehension, as 
they sometimes were, we were still permitted to give you our 
sympathy and love, and thus you have been unconsciously 
soothed and strengthened." 

This is the substance of what my boy said to me, though 
not perhaps the very words. I was in such a tremor of joy my 
memory may not have taken exact note of them. 



12 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

Then my younger boy spoke : " To us was reserved the 
privilege of first meeting you on your entrance to the Spirit- 
world. Others are waiting to see and to welcome you, but we 
felt that the first hour ought to be ours. " 

" My blessed guardian angels ! " I exclaimed. 

"No, not your guardian angels; only your loving children. 
Your guardian you will presently see. It is through her kind- 
ness and considerateness that we are with you first. She is here 

even now. " 

I turned, and saw standing at a little distance a woman, ap- 
parently of mature years, but with the radiance of heavenly 
youth and beauty upon her brow. She held out her arms to 
me exclaiming, " My child ! " 

I felt impelled towards her, and yet hesitated for an in- 
stant. " You are not my mother? " I said, half by way of asser- 
tion, half in inquiry. 

" Your spiritual mother, not your earthly one. The ties of 
spirit are far more real and enduring than those of the flesh." 

Her arms were still extended, and as we mutually advanc- 
ed, they encircled me, and I felt a deep inward conviction of 
the truth of her words. 

"My child," she continued, "the ties which bind us are 
those of a kindred spiritual nature and kindred earthly experi- 
ences. My trials on earth were similar to yours ; my struggles 
and even my failures like yours, only mine more desperate, more 
complete. When I entered this life, and realized, as I had not 
done before, the meaning of it all, and saw my own mistakes 
and failures, and comprehended how I might have avoided 
many of them, I cried out in agony of spirit that it was unjust that 
I was not permitted to undo them — to set them right. Then 
my work was revealed to me, and rebuked and humbled I ac- 
cepted it. The higher spirits, to whom knowledge is given 
which is withheld from us who are still so near the earth, point- 
ed out to me a child whose womanly destiny was to be like my 
own. I must go to her, stay by her, and help her by the light 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 13 

of my experience. Oh ! that was so long ago, you were yet a 
little child. I have been with you all these years, helping, 
strengthening, comforting; and it makes me glad and grateful 
to know that my influence has been felt, and has been in many 
instances attended by good results, so that your life is not tlie 
complete failure that mine seemed to be. But remember, only 
seemed to bo, my child ; for by my own failures did I know best 
how to help you ; and thus all things have worked together for 
good." 

"But how did you speak to me?" I queried. "I^know 
some are privileged to hear spirit voices, but I have — had, I 
mean — not that gift." 

" There you mistake. There are few mortals to whom some 
spirits, or class of spirits, cannot speak and make themselves 
heard. If they draw around them good spirits, then their mes- 
sages lift them upward, and give them spiritual strength and 
wisdom. If through their vices they seek the companionship 
of evil spirits, then their tendency will be downward. We do 
not speak in audible words, but our messages are to the heart, 
and are felt rather than heard. You often heard me when you 
imagined it was only your own mind, your own thought speak- 
ing. Sometimes you repulsed me, and then other spirits, whose 
influences were not good, came in, and you morally retrograd- 
ed. But at all times your children could approach you. You 
never even unconsciously repulsed them ; and through their 
loving agency I would find my way back to you again. My 
child, I have been with you all these years. I know your heart 
far better than your own mother could know it, who, strange to 
say, does not possess that spiritual kinship with you which I 
possess. I know you far better than you know yourself." 

Again gathering me in a tender embrace, she kissed me 
gently, I almost fancied pitifully. It was so sweet to be thus 
offered and to accept the manifestations of affection. A reserv- 
ed woman on earth, I was thought to be a cold woman as well ; 
and thus, through many respected, and some few felt a genuine 



14 A NARKAtlVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

friendship for me, the number of those who really loved me 
was very small. 

I have not narrated the conversation of my guide exactly 
as it occurred. It was more or less interrupted by questions by 
myself; but I have given the substance of what she said to me. 

"My more than mother," I said at length, "I want to ask 
you a question about something that perplexes me. I thought 
our departed friends met us at the threshold of the spirit exist- 
ence. Why was I condemned to pass from one world to anoth- 
er alone i " . 

" Condemned is not the word, my child," she replied with 
a bright smile. " Nor were you alone. You were only seem- 
ingly so. We and many more stood near you, anxiously watch- 
ing and eagerly waiting, ready to make ourselves manifest. To 
many souls the passage from mortality to immortality is a 
dread one, and they need all the assistance that loving spirit 
presences can give, to keep them in courage until they become 
familiar with their surroundings; but you were not one of these. 
Alone you chose to walk in most things during your earth life ; 
your thoughts and experiences, even your emotions you kept shut 
within your own soul. You breasted the tide of death with a 
brave heart, calling for no help. You needed the apparent soli- 
tude and isolation when the new experiences of spirit life were 
forced upon you, in order that you might the more fully un- 
derstand them. When the need came to you for companionship, 
you called for it, and behold how quickly we responded to your 
call." 

I stooped and gathered a cluster of daisies w^hich grew at 
my feet. They had long been my favorite flowers, so common 
and yet so beautiful. As I held them, regarding them with the 
same admiration I had ever felt for them, a new revelation came 
to me. The flowers were speaking to me ! Not in a word-lan- 
guage, but in a soul-language which I understood for the first 
time. How often had I been both soothed and perplexed in the 
earth-life in the companionship of nature, which I had always 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH 15 

loved with a passionate devotion. Each tree, each leaflet, each 
blossom, seemed to have a message for me, but I knew not their 
language ; and I only half gathered their meaning, as one from 
gestures and expression may gather a glimmering of the mean- 
ing of a stranger or guest^who speaks only in a foreign tongue. I 
was certain of the message, and I often conjectured what it 
might be. Sometimes I thought I comprehended it, and the 
belief was a very pleasant one; but my spirit understood their 
language, and was glad in consequence. How can I tell you 
of their message? It was, as I have said, not in words, but was 
a direct communication of emotions, unmeasured and unfetter- 
ed by language. How shall I translate to you a strain of rare 
melody? How with mathematical precision give the aesthetic 
results of the harmonious blending of colors? How, then, to 
your earthly natures convey the sense of perfect peace, joy, hope 
and faith which these flowers brought to me; not as a vague in- 
tangible feeling, but as a positive and assured possession? This 
experience gave me my first actual realization of my changed 
condition ; that I was no longer mortal, but a spirit, freed from 
the limitations of mortality, and with a spirit's perception and 
possibilities. Heretofore I had been in a maze of wonder — 
everything was so new and so strange! Emotion had so crowd- 
ed upon emotion that I had realised nothing, and all my feel- 
ings had still been from the earthly standpoint. I seemed to 
have been a mortal who, by some chance had strayed into the 
realm of spirits; but the flowers — the daisies which grew in the 
fields, and are trodden heedlessly under foot — had reminded me 
of my spiritual birthright, and that I understood them was the 
surest proof of the truth of their message. 

" Sweet, perishable things ! " I exclaimed as I pressed them 
to my bosom. " Even you have your lesson for me. How 
strange it is that I am so slow to comprehend that even the flow- 
ers of the field are capable of instructing me. I am bewilder- 
ed. My intelligence has not yet developed beyond its earthly 



16 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

measure. I do not yet even realize my own privileges and pos- 
sibilities." 

"That is not strange, my child," said my guide. "It 
would be most strange, indeed, if it were otherwise. How many 
children of earth realize the possibilities of their spirits while 
they are yet in the earthly condition? and when they come here, 
and the horizon is so suddenly widened around them, it takes 
time for their vision to extend to its utmost limits. But I have 
something to tell you of the flowers you love so well. They are 
imperishable here. Death and decay wait not on them any 
more than on your own spirit." 

" Oh, mother, is that so? " I exclaimed in an ecstasy of de- 
light. " How often on earth it has pained me, pained me inex- 
pressibly, to see these beautiful creations of nature, which have 
by their beauty administered to our finest and most sensitive 
needs, droop and fade, and then be cast aside to perish. I could 
never shake off the feeling that we were guilty of ingratitude in 
thus trampling them under foot when they no longer gave us 
pleasure." 

" You must no longer call me mother," said my compan- 
ion with a sweet seriousness. " Your own mother is waiting to 
welcome you when you are prepared to see her; to her the title 
belongs, and it would pain her to hear it bestowed upon anoth- 
er. Call me Margaret. I am still your guide as long as you 
need my assistance; but I shall become daily more and more 
your companion. We shall presently be sisters, not mother and 
daughter." 

"Margaret, my sister," I said, kissing her hand, "no name 
could suit you better; no name be sweeter for me to utter. 
See, I fasten my daisies, my marguerites, upon your breast. 
You belong each to the other. You each speak the same lan- 
guage to me." 

" Yes, they are my flowers, as they are yours," she answer- 
ed simj)ly; "that proves our spiritual kinship." 

I cannot tell you all we talked about that beautiful heav- 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 17 

enly morning. There seemed so much to say, both to Margaret 
and to my children, that for a time I was oblivious of all else. 
Then the remembrance came to me of the friends I had left be- 
hind in earth life. Why had I not thought of them before? 
Because events and experiences had been pressing on me too 
fast for any more to crowd themselves in. But a panic sud- 
denly seized me. In their bereavement how overwhelmed 
with grief they would be! How could they get along without 
me? I must go to them at once, and seek by some means to 
make my presence known and felt, and to comfort those 
stricken ones. But when and how should I find theui? I 
looked around me in dismay. I was in the spirit-land ; how 
could I find my way back to earth? How I had left the earth 
I knew not. I had probably been borne thence by spirit 
forces, while my spirit was yet weak from its new birth. 

No sooner were my wishes spoken than my boys said, 
" We will show you the way ; we have traveled it so often, we 
know it well." 

Immediately the scene around us dissolved until all that 
remained was a luminous cloud, and we descended, half float- 
ing, half walking, until I found myself in the old home I had 
known so well. How strange it seemed to glide, not like a 
ghost, but a veritable ghost, silent and unseen, through its 
rooms and passage ways ! They who had been so long used to 
my presence, and who were even now mourning the depar- 
ture of my spirit with sincere and overwhelming grief, if they 
were but to catch a glimpse of my spirit form as it thus wan- 
dered, would be almost paralyzed with terror. I realized as 
never before how inconsistent is the fear of apparitions. 

Eagerly I sought to comfort the mourning ones ; and what 
agony it was even to my newly emancipated and happy spirit, 
to find that I could not make my presence known. 

" Oh, what shall I do ? " I exclaimed in dismay. 

"You can do nothing," returned Margaret. "You are yet 
so new to the Spirit-world, and have so much to learn. Some 



18 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. 

day you will know how to reach and communicate with your 
friends ; now you must permit me to do the work for you." 

Gently she approached the weeping ones, softly laid her 
hands by turns upon their brows, whispered a few words of 
comfort in their ears, and to my surprise their tears ceased 
falling ; they became calmer, and their conversation, which had 
been entirely of their loss, now took a happier and more hope- 
ful turn. 

Margaret beckoned to me, and we left them thus, and were 
on our way back to the land of spirits, though I fain would 
have remained longer. 

"No," said Margaret, who seemed to divine my very 
thoughts; "you are not yet able to help them; and their grief 
only pains you." " Yes," again in answer to my thoughts; " I 
shall do your work for you, I shall not forget or neglect them." 

" But why can not I do that which I so long to do — that 
which seems so easy for you? " 

" Oh, you have so much to learn ! " replied Margaret half 
smiling. " You have not yet escaped from the limitations of 
an imperfect nature. You are still under the rule of law and 
ever will be. You cannot communicate with your friends until 
you have learned first the proper methods, and next how to 
use them. Did you think because you had become a spirit, 
that all things were possible to you? I can reach them be- 
cause I have so long been familiar with the means of communi- 
cation, and especially because of my long association with you. 
I have also been brought en rapport with your children. I 
have in a certain sense been their spiritual mother as well as 
yours. But do not be impatient. You have all eternity be- 
fore you in which to learn." 

I will not go into further detail of how the hours passed 
of that first day in the Spirit-world — how unconsciously I, 
who have so recently left the earth, drop into the earth lan- 
guage! "There shall be no night there!" and there are conse- 
quently no days, as I once measured, and as you still measure 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 19 

time. Time in the Spirit-world is measured only by emotions, 
events and deeds; counting it thus, how long that day was! 
When my spirit was strong enough to bear tlieir presence, and 
my desire had summoned them, my father and mother came to 
me, and many friends who had preceded me to spirit-life. 
Need I tell you of the joyous greetings, the words of affection, 
and all the tender confidences which spring up when those 
long separated are at last united to part no more? I realized 
that I was indeed in heaven. On this my first day was given a 
realization of its bright and happy side, and no hint was then 
imparted of the darker phases of the spirit-life, and the trials 
and severe experiences it held in reserve for me. For spirit- 
land is not all beautiful. There are dark places and dark- 
ened souls, as there are on earth. Nor have our disciplines 
ended with our mortal existence, but are continued here, and 
must continue until our souls are entirely purified and refined. 

It was probably the next day as you count time that Mar- 
garet came to me and said : " There is an interesting ceremo- 
nial about to take place on earth, at which I think you would 
like to be present." 

I had not thought of it — my funeral! One does not 
think of one's own funeral as an event of immediate occur- 
rence while one is still alive; and I had not yet been able to 
realize that I w^as dead in any sense that made a funeral neces- 
sary. 

We attended, of course. There were the usual outward 
signs of mourning : the black plumed hearse, the casket covered 
by a heavy pall, the sombre and cumbersome garments. An 
intense desire seized me to preach my own funeral sermon. 
Spirits frequently controlled mortals and spoke through them; 
why not I ? I looked my wish to Margaret, and she smiled and 
said, " You can try." 

Alas ! I knew no more how to carry out my purpose than 
does a child to direct and control a steam engine. So after an 
impotent effort, I took my stand beside the casket and lis- 



20 A NARRATIVE OB' PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. 

tened to the discourse. How weak it seemed ; how utterly in- 
appropriate to the occasion ! If I could only have spoken, I 
would have uttered words which should have poured a flood of 
light regarding the spirit life into the minds of the listeners, 
and comfort and consolation into their hearts, so that their 
cheeks should be wet with tears of joy instead of sorrow. Oh, 
how hard it was to remain silent when there was so much to 
say! 

For a final hymn they sang: " Nearer, my God, to Thee." 
It had always been a favorite of mine, and perhaps in remem- 
brance of this it had been selected. I had once sung it weakly 
and tremulously, with the voice of faith and longing. As it 
was sung at my funeral it fell upon the air like a wail, so im- 
pregnated were the voices with the sorrow of the occasion. 
But there was one singer there to whom all their ears were 
deaf. Yes, I sang — I sang gloriously; my voice rang out in a 
glad shout of triumph; 

"And when on joyous wing 

Cleaving the sky, 
Sun, moon and stars forgot, 

Upward I fly, 
Still all my song shall be, 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, 

Nearer to Thee." 

It was not merely that the hymn revealed itself in a newer 
and fuller meaning to me ; but there was rapturous joy in the 
discovery of a new possession — a new faculty of expression — I 
could sing. I could sing even better than I had hoped or 
wished to sing on earth. 

To me one of the saddest things of the earth-life had ever 
been that the spirit was in all directions hindered and curtailed 
in its expression. Through the weakness of the body it must 
content itself with imperfect, inadequate utterance, or else re- 
main dumb. But freed from the immortal frame, I had ac- 
quired a new and a wonderfully expressive language — the Ian- 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 21 

guage of music. And so at my own funeral I sang trium- 
phantly, though mortal ears heard me not ; and as I sang, lo ! 
a chorus of angel voices far and near joined in the hymn, 
which rang from earth to heaven a ladder of divine song, up 
which it seemed as though all souls might have ascended to 
the vestibule of paradise. But though the strains rang out ju- 
bilantly in a mighty gush of music, the mortals heard only 
their own weak, sad wail, and were deaf to the harmonies of 
heaven. 

When the casket was opened, I was the first to gaze upon 
the face of the dead ; so, too, was I the last. There were nu- 
merous and costly flowers, but I was glad they had placed in 
the folded hands — the thin-veined hands, which, whatever they 
had found to do, had done with their might — not lilies (few are 
worthy to bear them), but daisies which brighten by their beauty 
the highways and byways of the common places of life; the 
daisies she — 1 — had loved so well. How the persons of the 
pronouns perplex me; I seem not to know whether I am 
speaking of myself or some one else. I tried to take one of 
these daisies as a memento of the occasion, and transplanting 
it to immortal bowers, see if I could not bestow upon it the 
gift of immortality. But I was astonished and perplexed. 
Though I could consciously touch it, I could not remove or dis- 
place it. So even spirit had its limitations. 

Again Margaret smiled, and again she said : " You have 
so much to learn." 

Then I laid beside the perishable earthly flowers, the spirit 
blossoms I still bore with me, but after a moment snatched 
them back again. No, I could not condemn the precious 
spirit treasures to the darkness of an earthly tomb. Earth to 
earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes; but spirit to spirit. 

My tears fell on the coffined form no less than those of 
the mourners. I seemed to be taking an eternal farewell of my 
past self. Thenceforward all connected with my earthly life 
would live only in memory. The thought was an inexpressibly 



22 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. 

sad one, though there was so much of sorrow in the past, so 
much that I would naturally be glad to bury forever not only 
to sight but to memory as well. 

I stood by the open grave as the casket was lowered into 
it, and a sense of the full meaning of death came over me, as 
it had never done before — not even since my entrance into the 
Spirit-world. I was done with earth forever save as my work 
might temporarily call me thither, and as the clods closed 
above my cold clay, I was almost overwhelmed with a realiza- 
tion of the solemn future which I now faced with all its respon- 
sibilities and its possibilities. I was dead and buried forever- 
more to earth. I had been resurrected in the Spirit- world. 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 23 



CHAPTER III. 



THE DAY OP JUDGMENT AND THE HOUSE NOT MADE WITH 

HANDS. 

I cannot tell you all the experiences which crowded upon 
me in these first hours and days of my changed condition. 
Everything was so new, so strange, so different from what I had 
anticipated. Scarcely a moment that did not bring me fresh 
knowledge or new experience; and I was so eager to learn, 
that I sometimes pressed forward faster than my capacity for 
reception or execution justified, and then I met checks and dis- 
appointments. Disappointing and even painful was the con- 
viction which gradually forced itself upon me, that the spirit 
has its limitations as well as the body; that in being freed from 
the fetters of flesh which so long seemed to shackle it and hold 
it down to the weak potentialities of earth, I had not passed at 
once into a state where infinite wisdom or infinite power was 
possible to me. True progress is always slow. But I could not 
content myself to progress slowly; so, with an impetuosity 
which often defeated its own object, I sought to grasp that 
which could only come as the reward of long and patient en- 
deavor. 

Nor were these outward conditions the only things which 
took me by surprise. I myself seemed changed — radically 
changed; yet when I came to reflect, I realized that it was 
only in seeming. I had passed while on earth for a cold, al- 
most a hard, unsympathetic woman, unswayed by passion, and 
with a nature incapable of either great joy or great pain. 
None, not even those who thought they knew me best, dreamed 



/ 



24 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

of the Storms of passion which sometimes swept through my 
soul, swaying it hither and thither as a reed is shaken by the blast. 
No matter what my grief, my friends seldom saw me in tears ; 
and they knew not how I choked them back with almost death- 
gasps, because I scorned to seem weak. I could feel a dagger 
at my heart with an unmoved countenance, and even smile and 
utter light, idle words, or hum the fragment of some familiar 
song, while it was being turned and twisted to do greater exe- 
cution. Few ever noticed the convulsive clasping of my 
hands in which the nails set deep into the flesh — the only out- 
ward sign I gave in the presence of others of the agony within ; 
but w^hen I was alone, then all restraints removed, I could 
wail, moan, wring my hands, and give myself up to a perfect 
abandon of misery. Of joy I might probably have known as 
great an extreme had the opportunity come to me; but I dared 
not. Joy seemed so uncertain, so illusive, I dared not grasp 
it, lest it vanish from" me; and so gradually had seemed to die 
out of my heart the capacity for more than a tranquil, negative 
happiness ; and even this, as the years wore on, had become 
narrower and narrower. Not that I had grown morbid or dis- 
contented ; but the pain of my life had seemed to numb me to 
all sensations but those of suffering. 

But here! Who was I? What was I? Only my old, true self, 
after all, but deprived of the screen of the earthly body, behind 
which I could conceal my emotions ; without the mask — which 
1 had worn so long that even I had come to regard it as the true 
semblance of myself, by the means of which I could present an 
unperturbed exterior while I was being shaken and torn by in- 
ward tempests. The words of the familiar song came back to me : 

"We shall know each other there." 
Truly, yes, without disguises or concealments; and we shall 
learn to know ourselves as well. This self-knowledge is not 
acquired at once. I realize that it is only beginning with me; 
for when I have come to a thorough knowledge of self, I shall 
have acquired a knowledge of all things — even of God. 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 25 

How patient my friends were with me ! How they taught 
me and helped me or checked me and bade me restrain my im- 
petuosity, as the case demanded. The bonds and bars of earth 
life being removed, I was like a child to whom is given un- 
wonted liberty. I knew not what to do with it or with myself. 
I wanted to realize all the possibilities of my new existence, 
before I was fully prepared for any of them; and as a conse- 
quence of this rashness, the lessons which the future had in 
store for me sometimes came with a suddenness and a harsh- 
ness for which I was little prepared. 

"Does not each spirit find its own appropriate sphere?" I 
asked, urged to the question quite as much by curiosity as by a 
genuine desire for knowledge. " I seem to be hovering on the 
border land of many spheres, with no place assigned me. 
Where am I to find my home and my work? " 

" The sphere you are to occupy will be of your own choos- 
ing. An ordeal is before you. I wish that it might have been 
delayed," Margaret replied with a troubled countenance. "But 
here in the Spirit-world desires are answered. To many the or- 
deal is so tempered and softened by time and circumstance 
that they scarcely realize they have passed through it until the 
end is reached ; but none can escape. It comes to all in some 
one form or another. Your impatient nature, which cannot 
wait until the future develops itself, but must snatch at impend- 
ing events and draw them untimely to you, brings you face to 
face with something which will require all your courage and for- 
titude to meet." 

My impetuous nature ! I had come to believe myself the 
most patient of women, but when I began to reflect, I realized 
that my much-prized patience was but a thin, outward crust, 
by which I had deceived the world and even my own self, while 
the genuine impatience of my nature had boiled and surged 
within, unchecked and unquelled. 

I turned to reply, but found myself alone. A sense of in- 
jury came over me. I was to meet an ordeal, and yet all had 



26 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

left me to meet it alone. Surely this was not kind. But while 
this feeling was still fresh in my mind, it was quickly oblitera- 
ted, or at least lost sight of by that which I next experienced. 

Now how can I describe to you that which has no parallel on 
earth ? I can give you only an imperfect idea of what now 
occurred, though it came to me with a force hitherto unpar- 
alleled in either my earthly or my spiritual existence. The air 
seemed filled with a strange murmur, and clouds descended 
and shut from my view all outward objects. The murmur in- 
creased until to my astonished and dismayed ears it seemed a 
roar; and the clouds rolled one upon another, until they took a 
definite shape, and this was what I saw and heard. The story 
of my life was being told in tones that seemed to me must 
reach to the farthest heavens, and its events were pictured be- 
fore me by the tossing clouds. I use the words heard and saw, 
and yet I am not sure that I did either; but the impression 
made upon my mind was that as if all senses had united in one 
grand effort to place my past life in its true phases before 
me. I sat appalled and dismayed ; and then as the record of 
weaknesses and failures went on, I covered my face with my 
hands, and sank in agony and shame to the ground. 

Truly there is record kept of every event in our lives. 
With my belief in Spiritualism I thought I had realized that. I 
knew with a sort of superficial knowledge that not only our 
personality but our past is written upon all with which we 
come in familiar contact, so that a sensitive may from even a 
handkerchief or glove which we have borne about us or worn 
read the story of our lives; but the belief had conveyed no 
special meaning to me. I had regarded it as one of the phases 
of Spiritualism, more curious than actually valuable ; and now 
I was being made to read my own record. I understood why my 
friends had withdrawn. It was out of kindness, not from want 
of consideration. "Was ever sense of humiliation more com- 
plete than mine ? I thought that even in the earth-life I had 
formed a tolerably correct estimate of my own character and 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 27 

resultant acts; but in these dreadful cloud-pictures, how in 
those deeds on which I most prided myself as havmg been ac- 
tuated by the purest and most unselfish motives, did there too 
often rest the dark blot of unconscious egotism or self-right- 
eousness. Was I then incapable of pure motives ? 

I could not shut my eyes or ears to that which was passing 
around me. So after a time I summoned all my courage, and 
since I must sit in judgment on myself, I resolved to do so 
bravely and thoroughly. How many sombre pictures there 
were ! How many half light, half shade ; but now and then 
there was a bright one in which some unconscious unselfish- 
ness, some little deed I had done and forgotten, without any 
any thought of secret self-glorification, and which had not only 
been good in its results, but which had sprung from a fountain 
of genuine good within my heart, shone out like a jewel from 
the dark clouds which surrounded it. Truly our unconscious 
acts, be they good or bad, best attest to our true natures. I 
was too humiliated for either vanity or self-congratulation 
when these gem pictures appeared; but a feeling of deep yet 
humble thankfulness stole into my heart, that there were any 
gleams of brightness amid so many shadows ; and even as this 
feeling crept upon me, the clouds seemed to lighten, and the 
sombre pictures took on a tint of comparative brightness from 
some unknown source, and the rushing, roaring wind died 
away into a murmur. The story of my life was told, and I 
had sat in judgment upon myself, and by my own heart was 
partially condemned, partially absolved. Then I felt conscious 
of some one near me, and Margaret's arm stole around me, and 
my face was drawn to her breast and hidden there. 

" Has it been more than you could bear ?" she asked. 

" No; for I have borne it," I replied. 

" See, it is not all ended ! " 

" Must I see more ?" I exclaimed with a shudder, 
" Surely the limit of my endurance is reached." 



38 A NARBATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

But she only raised my head from her breast, and pointed 
to the clouds which still seemed to envelop us. 

Hesitatingly my eyes followed the direction of her hands, 
and behold a strange thing was transpiring. The jDictm^es had 
disappeared, and the clouds were again in violent agitation. 
Again they took form, and I saw slowly emerge from their misty 
outlines, and gradually shape itself, a structure, my ideal house, 
which I had so often beheld in my waking dreams, and some- 
times but vainly wished to realize in the earth-life. 

"Let us enter," said Margaret. 

We did so, and again I encountered a strange experience. Its 
walls were covered with, pictures — the pictures I had just beheld 
with such perturbation of spirit. Nothing was Mdden — every- 
thing stood rcA^ealed. But a kindly fate, or shall I say pro^d- 
dence ? had placed the gem pictures where they could best catch 
the light, and should be a perpetual reminder and incentive to 
purer and noble endeavor; while the shadow-pictures were put in 
obscure places, and those which had no touch of brightness in 
them, but were all dark, were almost hidden from view. It was 
enough for me to know that they were there, without the agony of 
being compelled constantly to rest my eyes upon them. Therc 
was another peculiarity about this house, not only tlie house itself 
but every article of furnishing it possessed seemed somehow to 
remind me of something in my earth-life, as though it were act- 
ually woven or manufactured out of the actions or impressions of 
that life. 

"This is your home," again spoke Margaret. "You should 
be satisfied witli it, for it is what you yourself have made it." 

A house not made with hands ! How that phrase came back 
to me, not niade with hands, but built with pm*poses, endeavors and 
achievements. How strange that while I was still surrounded by 
the material forms of earth, doing, or perhaps neglecting my 
daily duties, I was building myself a house eternal in the heavens ! 

How kind, how good, how sympathetic Margaret and all my 
friends were to me ! I came to realize after a time that what had 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 29 

seemed such a terrible revelation to the Spirit- world had been only 
a revelation to myself ; that my inmost motives were already known ; 
the good of my nature ajipreciated, and its evil deplored by those 
who had, by the laws of spirit-life, been permitted to approach 
within the circle of personality wliich surrounded me, as it sur- 
rounds us all. How tenderly they encouraged me ; how lightly 
they touched upon my -faults and failings, and that only to show 
me how I might remedy them, and grow in spiritual graces as 
well as knowledge. 

"But," I asked after a time, "must these dreadful j^ictures al- 
ways remain a terrible, an unendurable reminder of my weak- 
nesses and sins? " 

" Those pictures which our own deeds have painted can never 
be effaced nor entirely hidden," was the reply. "But the time 
\vill come, my dear friend, strange as the idea may now seem to 
you, when they will be the most valued pictures of all — when you 
would sooner part mth the brightest gems which adorn your walls 
than these. You wonder why ? Well, I will tell you. In the 
work which we all must do towards helping struggling humanity, 
we all need to perpetually remember the bonds which connect us 
with that humanity, so that we shall be patient and charitable, 
with a patience and charity which know neither weariness nor ces- 
sation, and these pictures are the \dsible tokens of these invisible 
bonds. They call us back to the past and to our own weak, 
erring selves. As we have needed charity, so do we become more 
ready to bestow it. As we have been lifted up, do we have 
strengtli and courage to uplift others. In brief, we must fully 
realize that we have been human, before we can hope to take the 
first step towards the development of that divinity within us. As 
a kite can only soar aloft while the cords hold it fast to the earth, 
so our spirits will float A\ith a steadier, surer motion for this visi. 
ble bond which connects us ^\^th our earth-life." 

It was all so new, so strange, that I could not comprehend it 
at once. I am not sure that I do so fully even yet, but I think I 
catch glimpses of the truth. I have found myself more than 



30 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

once regarding some of the darkest and most forbidding of my 
life pictures with a new and strange interest which is not all pain. 
As it was necessary for the ideal man God to descend to the 
earth and drink to the dregs tlie bitter cup of suffering before lie 
could enter with sympathy into the sufferings of humanity, so 
perhaps it is necessary that we should all know from personal ex- 
perience what failure and sin are, in order to fully qualify us to 
help other weaklings and sinners. 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 31 



CHAPTER IV. 



BUT ARE AS THE ANGELS. 

Tlie first result gro^^ang out of the experiences I have just 
narrated, next to that self-knowledge which I began to acquire 
through their means, was a knowledge of others. My eyes were 
opened so that when I met certain spirits I seemed to enter intui- 
tively into their thoughts and feelings; and I found, moreover, 
that, as my life record was placed before the Spirit-world that all 
might Tead, so when the desire came to me from good motives to 
read a like record of others' lives, tlie desire was readily gi'atified ; 
but I also found that when the desire was tmged %\dth any feelings 
of selfishness or uncharity, a cloud seemed to overspread the 
record so tliat I could not perceive it clearly. By this means I 
quickly found those spirits most congenial to me, and ascertained 
my own place in the Spirit- world — -my own " sphere," as I had 
been wont to think of it. And here again another thing took me 
by suqDrise. Though all classes of spirits, both good and bad, do 
not meet and mingle here as on earth, still there is no strong out- 
ward demarcation between the different spheres or grades. Spirits 
of different approximating grades meet and in outward ai3j)ear- 
ance associate together ; but each one recognizes l)y that inner con- 
sciousness, that fine intuition of the spirit wliich is bestowed in a 
slight degree as a rare gift upon some favored mortals, those who 
are their true companions and friends; and thus to the spirit 
%dsion spirits of different spheres are as j^lainly and distinctly 
separated as though each were walled in into a separate heaven 
No ; I am wrong. A strong chain of sympathy binds all together, 
causing the lower spirits who have begun to progress at all, to 



32 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

turn their regards and their aspirations towards those above them ; 
while the latter always respond in accordance with a law within 
their being, to which they could not be false without themselves 
descending from their high positions. Thus, while wisdom, jus. 
tice and truth are the centrifugal forces of the spiritual universe, 
dividing and separating, love, charity and sympathy are the cen- 
tripetal forces, binding all together. 

I had found my sphere in tlie association of those spirits 
whose degree of development most nearly approximated mine, 
and whose society was therefore congenial. I had found my 
home, which was, as best I «ould express it, an outward manifesta- 
tion of my own character furnished and decorated with the fab- 
rics I had woven, the arti*^;les I had constructed, and the pictures 
I had i3ainted, by my thouglits and deeds, while yet in the earth 
life. It was, as it were, an objective self, and I soon came to 
love it as we must always love that which is part of ourselves. 
I had yet to learn what my work should be in the Spirit- world ; 
but I was beginning to grow wiser, and so I curbed my impa- 
tience, waiting until that work should develop itself to my com- 
prehension, as I felt the assurance it would do in the fullness of 
time. Moreover I dreaded by precipitate desires to subject my- 
self to another ordeal. Margaret brought to me one day a woman 
who was newer to the experiences of the new life than even L 
''Love her," she said; "slie needs all your love and tenderness." 

A rare bond of sympathy seemed to bind us together, even 
from the beginning, and all unconsciously to myself I began my 
work by giving a helping- hand to tliis sorrowing, earth- tried 
sister. I did not know it then, but I see it now, how we were 
each mutually helpful to the other, — I in imparting strength to 
a spirit that as yet had little of its own; she in strengthening 
me in making a demand for that strength. 

I asked her no questions of her past ; I thought when she 
felt like confiding in me she would do so. I would have been 
content to remain ignorant until she chose to enlighten me, but 
Margaret thought best it should be otherwise. She told me 



AFTER THE CHANaE CALLED DEATH. 33 

how this woman had in earth-life been bound by human laws 
to a man who early in her married days had forfeited her re- 
spect, and as a matter of course, her love also. But she bore her 
burden of sorrow to the end, outwardly patient and uncom- 
plaining, and performing for duty's sake, with a heavy heart, 
those duties which would have been a rare delight if love had 
been the actuating motive. The end came at last. As she 
looked for the last time upon the coffined form of her husband, 
though she wept tears of pity for both, because of the happi- 
ness they had missed, she said to herself, "It is better thus." 

I saw from the first that a shadow hung over her. She 
seemed expectant yet fearful of something. When I knew 
her history, I understood what it Avas. She was thinking of her 
husband, and wondering why he had not come to claim her as 
his wife. Margaret read this feeling clearly, and so after a 
time she said to her : 

"Your mind is not wholly at rest. There is some matter 
wherein you are not quite satisfied." 

"I had hoped— I had feared," she began, and then hesi- 
tated. She could not at once clearly define her own feelings. 

"Yes, you have both hoped and feared, and when the fear is 
entirely subdued, and only the hope and wish remain, then they 
will be realized." 

The woman looked up inquiringly. "You are thinking of 
the man who was once your husband," Margaret continued, in 
answer to the look. "When you are ready to go to him, not 
with a revived eartlily love, but in a spirit of heavenly love, 
which is ready to forgive and to aid, then you will see the man 
whom you now fear. He will not come to you, but you will go 
to him ; and when you come to know him as he really is, and 
comprehend the causes which conspired to make him what he 
was and is, your soul will be filled ^vith pity which will make it 
forgetful of self, and with thought only for him. Then you 
will stretch out your hands to him and become his savior, and 
he, with the love he really bears you, still strong in his heart. 



34 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

will follow your guidance whithersoever you choose to lead. 
TJiis is part of your futui'e work — not all of it. But not yet, 
not yet. You are not yet ready for it 

"Have no fears," added Margaret reassuringly; "there are 
no fetters here to bind the soul. The bonds to which we submit 
are only those of mutual affection and mutual adaptation. An 
earthly law bound you together, but you are free here, for death 
is the great divorcer." 

" Are there, then, no husbands and wives — no marriages in 
this world ?" I asked earnestly. 

"In heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage, 
but are as the angels," was the reply, given with a bright smile. 
" But I see you entirely misapprehend my answer. Let me ex- 
plain. Here among us there are no marriage bonds which bind 
the soul to the corpse of a dead affection, but there is love 
fuller and more perfect than the earth knows anything about. 
You are still tinged with the earthly ideas, and the wliole teach- 
ing of earth is to degrade sexual affection, and sink it to the 
lowest depths. Men and women who hesitate to take in vain 
the name of a purely imaginary deity, will not scruple every 
day of their lives to profane by light word or unhallowed 
deed the most sacred part of their natures. Truly, perverted 
love is a terrible demon. It is the embodiment and personifica- 
tion of selfishness. It tears, it defiles, it destroys and it exults 
in its destruction. It sends more victims to the lower spheres 
than any other smgle cause. You must look there in these 
spheres of lost spirits, if you would know to what depths a man 
and a woman will sink wiio blaspheme against the holy spirit of 
love which should find a pure temple in every heart. But search 
out the possibilities of your own soul, and then tell me if love- 
real love — is the impure impulse, the degrading impulse, the 
subject for jest, which it is so almost universally regarded. Is 
not pure love the very essence of unselfishness? Does it not 
ennoble the soul and purify the heart ? Does it not arouse 
higher impulses and bring the dawn of a spiritual vision to 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 35 

which one can never attain witlioiit it ? Is tliere any earthly hap- 
J3iness which brings mortals nearer heaven than this sentiment of 
the soul, which by even good people is underrated and despised, 
and which by the ignorant and e^al is turned into acm-se ? I tell 
vou a man and a woman Avho truly love one another on earth 
are already in heaven, and when you open the door of the Spirit- 
world to admit them, would you shut it in the face of their love? 
No ; let it enter in all its fullness, and glorify their lives here as 
there." 

"But—" 

"Yes; I mean all. Do not the flowers bloom, and bloom 
immortally here ? Every opening blossom is a manifestation of 
love — a sexual union. Would you deny immortality to the 
flower of life — to that which even as we find it, good, bad and 
indifferent, is, after all, all that makes life tolerable ? It is at 
the source of all action. It is, when unperverted, the deepest 
and purest imj^ulse of every heart. It is the constant theme of 
your novelists, the perpetual inspiration of your poets. It has 
incited to the grandest and most heroic deeds, and the noblest 
self-sacrifice. There is no other emotion which lias such power 
over the human heart, and which has so controlled the destiny of 
nations and of mankind in general. Yes, I know you have been 
used to a cant about spiritual love, which you have not yet for 
gotten, even with your present experience in the Spirit-world. 
You have entertained a dim, shadowy idea that spirits stand sta- 
tionary like spiritual suns, sending out beams of love, thus en- 
veloping one another; if that is not your precise idea, it is some- 
thing quite as unspiritual and illusive. But you did not leave 
your heart behind you with your earthly body. You have the ca- 
pacity for loving intensified; and not only that you have arms 
with which to embrace. Would you have been satisfied if, wiien 
you first beheld your long lost children, you had stood at a dis- 
tance and regarded them with your imaginary spiritual affection? 
No; you instinctively stretched out your arms to them, and took 
them to your heart, and yom* kisses were on their lips, their 



36 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

brows, their cheeks. Is the conjugal affection less than the ma- 
ternal? No; my children, we shall all some day, if we may 
not now, clasp to our hearts some one whom we love, and who 
will love us with equal ardor in return; but not until we have 
entirely divested ourselves of the degrading earthly ideas con- 
cerning the purest, most sacred, most spiritual sentiment of the 
human heart?" 

"But I thought you said there were no marriages here," we 
both remarked. 

"Nor are there. There are no mismated couples; no de- 
grading selfishness on one side, no misery and unrecognized self- 
sacrifice on the other. They are as the angels. Earthly bonds 
are only perpetuated as the heart has sanctioned them. But 
love is the atmosphere of this life. You have not come to the 
arctic regions, but to the region where love is a pervading influ- 
ence, warming all hearts. No spirit can find its most perfect 
development who misses from his life the experience which love 
can give him. If he has lived a loveless life on earth, the possi- 
bility is still reserved for him here. The certainty will come to 
him in the future. His being cannot be perfected without it." 

" Is it possible," the new comer asked, " that I shall come 
some day to feel this love for my husband?" 

"For him wlio was once your husband," Margaret correct- 
ed. " No, there is no bond of spiritual attraction between you. 
You know that now. He will come to recognize it sooner or 
later, and though his heart is still turning to you, the time will 
come when he will find a more perfect happiness than he yet 
dreams of in the companionship of another." 

"Take me to him," cried our companion. 

"Not yet; you are not prepared. But you shall have the 
first lesson in that preparation, and you shall come with us," 
added Margaret, turning to me ; " for I see your mind is full of 
questioning." 

My companion turned toward me with a sweet smile, her 
eyes being filled with tears, and drawing my arm within her 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 37 

own, we • followed Margaret, who led the w^ay to a temple 
which I had often noticed and wished to enter, but had re- 
strained my impatience. Within we found, not a shrine, nor an 
altar of any kind, but innumerable volumes arranged on shelves 
which extended from floor to ceiling. 

"Do they, then, have public libraries here?" I asked won- 
deringly. 

"You mistake; this is a library of record, wherein all may 
read, whenever they choose, that which pertains to the lives 
of themselves and others. Here are the true biographies of 
earth, not the false, sujDerficial a£Eairs which pass under that 
name in the life from which you have come." 

She opened a volume and bade us read. I read a story 
which filled me with wonder. It was of a man whose nature 
was perverted by inherited traits of an ignorant and depraved 
ancestry. With generous impulses, there was also an inherent 
weakness of character which caused him to be readily influ- 
enced and swayed for either good or evil. Added to these, 
were the conditions of the sensitive or medium, which through 
the weakness already spoken of, made him the easy and unre- 
sisting victim of evil spirits, who finding the air of even the 
lower heavens to which they had passed too ethereal for them, 
and missing those gratifications of sense which were their only 
conceptions of happiness, continually sought the earth-life, and 
manifested their evil natures in evil ways. 

When we had finished reading the record, I seemed to see 
in my companion's heart the depth of pity which opened down 
for the man thus doomed even before his birth to such an inher- 
itance of misfortune and misery ! All the hardness which for 
years she had entertained melted away, and she sat down and 
wept. Yes, we sometimes weep in the Spirit- world, for we 
have taken with us our emotional natures, and are not yet be- 
yond sorrow. 

" Take me to him ! Take me to him ! " she cried. She 
seemed to feel that every delaying moment was a reproach un- 



38 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

til she should stand face to face with him. 

As Margaret silently led us away from the temple I turned 
to leave my two companions, for I felt that in the coming inter- 
view, at least, I ought not to intrude. But Margaret beckoned 
me back, and the woman clasped my hand with a firmer pres- 
sure. We followed a path which I had not before trodden. 
After a time Margaret spoke. 

" My child, do not reproach yourself unjustly. You per- 
formed your part nobly, and did your duty well. Your self-sacri- 
fice was more than ought to have been required of you. If you 
failed in a true appreciation of the difficulties which beset his 
path, it was because you had no knowledge of nor means of 
understanding them. Blame not yourself, but rather the un- 
just human law and popular sentiment which refuse to allow 
those to separate whom God hath not joined together." 

We had passed out into a barren plain, and the path was 
rough and stony. The sky, too, which hitherto had beamed 
with more than earthly light, seemed to become gradually over- 
cast, until finally, as compared with the light we had left be- 
hind us, there was scarcely more than twilight. Looking back- 
ward, the light of the region we had left shone like an aurora 
borealis upon the horizon. 

"Shall we go back?" Margaret asked. 

" Oh, no, no ! " the woman responded with fresh eagerness, 
and we quickened our steps. 

At last we espied in the gloom a figure sitting lonely 
among the rocks. The woman started and then stood still for 
an instant. She had recognized the figure. 

" Oh, I pity him, so deeply! " she exclaimed, "but there is 
not one throb of love for him in my heart." 

The man seemed to feel our approach, for he turned and 
looked eagerly in our direction, as if expecting some one. Evi- 
dently his expectations were at last realized, for as he saw us he 
sprang up with a look of joy. 

"You have come at last!" he exclaimed. "I have been 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 39 

waiting for you day by day ever since I heard you had entered 
spirit-life ; waiting in this solitude until I thought I should go 
mad ; and yet you never came ! You saw every one else, of 
course, before you thought of me !" 

I recognized in his fretful and jealous complaining what 
must have been the earthly character of the man. The mem- 
ories it awakened seemed almost more than the woman could 
bear; but she withheld all answer. He continued: 

"You will at least stay with me now you have come? " 

"No," replied Margaret; "her home is not here." 
He stretched out his arms as if to embrace her, but she 
only took his hand and pressed it with what warmth she could. 

"The same cold-hearted, cruel woman you were on earth! " 
he exclaimed with bitterness. 

" The old repellent feelings seemed to be struggling to 
come back in the breast of my friend. I whispered to her : 

" Remember the record. It is not himself who is speaking, 
but through him generations of undisciplined, selfish and way- 
ward ancestors, and hordes of evil spirits, who, by their fre- 
quent influence and control, have perverted what little of good 
there was left in his nature." 

She smiled sorrowfully as she pressed my hand, and then 
went and sat down beside him ; and spoke kindly to him, try- 
ing to arouse the better feelings of his heart, not by reproof or 
moralizing, but by bringing happier emotions uppermost. Mar- 
garet and I turned to one side and left them alone. 

Presently I felt a strange oppression in my breast, and my 
head began to swim as if with vertigo. 

"We must remain here no longer," said Margaret; "this 
air is poison." 

She called to our companion, who immediately arose and 
came back to us. 

"You will take me with you? " the man asked entreatingly. 
" I have looked forward to this meeting all these years. You 
surely will not drive me away now." 



40 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

He entreated so pitifully, that his wife seemed to know not 
what to say. She looked inquiringly to Margaret. 

" Let him come, if he wishes," she responded, much to my 
surprise. 

So with a cheerfulness he had not yet manifested, he 
walked beside us, forgetting his past grievances in a flow of ju- 
bilantly happy conversation. 

As we returned, the sky gradually grew brighter and the 
air purer until we had nearly reached our starting point. The 
man had hesitated more than once on the route, apparently 
stumbling oftener as the obstacles in the path decreased. 

"I can go no further," he said at last. "We must stop 
here. I cannot breathe, and the light almost blinds me. We 
must retrace our steps a little way, for this climate is certainly 
not.a healthy one." 

" Your wife's home is further on," saia Margaret. 

" Her home should be where her husband is," he returned 
with his old querulousness. 

Then Margaret turned to him, and with a severity which 
she had not before manifested, she said : 

"You are no longer on earth. This woman is no longer 
your wife, but free to come and go as she chooses. Her home 
is waiting for her, a home which you yourself realize you cannot 
enter. Shame upon you, who with your selfisliness still un- 
checked or unchanged, are not content with having blasted her 
mortal existence and filled it with sorrow and care, but now 
must seek to drag her into the semi-darkness where you find 
your congenial home. You may come to her when you are 
fitted, but she cannot go to you, except as an occasional visitor," 

The man drooped in dejection. The blow seemed almost 
too great for him, and yet he bore it, and at last turned to her 
with an uncharacteristic gentleness. 

"Forgive me," said he, "I will not curse you now as I 
have done in the past. I will not even seek to do so. I will 
not again ask you to come to me until I find myself more 



AFTER THE CHA.NGB CALLED DEATH. 41 

worthy. I did not realize my unworthiness until now. Promise 
me when that time comes '* 

Margaret interrupted : " She can make you no promises, 
and you must seek to exact none. But I will make this promise 
in her stead, that when you become truly worthy of the love of 
a good woman, the desire of your heart, whatever it may then 
be, shall be gratified." 

He slowly retraced his steps, and we turned and went on 
our way. Looking back, the last glimpse we obtained of him, 
he was standing with face turned towards us, and with out- 
stretched arms, as if silently entreating us. 

The interview was altogether a sad one, and yet not wholly 
unsatisfactory. My friend's work had begun, and she felt that 
some little had been accomplished. What a prolonged task it 
promised to be ! However, here we are not limited by time, but 
have all eternity in which to work. 

After Margaret had left us, my friend embraced me silently, 
and then took her dejDarture. I sat down to think it all over, and 
presently became lost in revery; and when at length I aroused 
myself from it I found myself repeating: "But are as the 
angels ! But are as the angels ! " 



43 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 



CHAPTER V. 



INTO THE DEPTHS. 

The remembrance of that desolate, cloud-shadowed region 
haunted me. When next I saw Margaret I questioned her about 
it. Were many spirits condemned to remain in its desolation and 
gloom? 

" My child," she replied, " how little you know of the world 
you have entered ! The place you visited is the border land be- 
tween the higher and the lower s]3lieres. It is where those spirits 
are compelled to stay whose virtues are merely negative ones; 
they are, so to speak, outside the gates ; whose vices are due to 
weakness rather than to radical wickedness of heart. There are 
depths below that where the light becomes dimmer and dimmer, 
until at last not a ray can penetrate, and the darkened souls re- 
main in perpetual outer darkness.'- 

*'Is it possible to visit these places? " I asked hesitatingly. 

" It is possible to visit them," was the reply, " if your mo- 
tive is to benefit those who are compelled to remain in them until 
they have progressed to a higher spiritual condition. To some 
the work given to do is to be continual visitants and messen- 
gers of peace and hope to these benighted souls. Only high and 
pure spirits are entrusted with this work. Those to whom still 
cling the weaknesses and superstitions of earth, have neither the 
wisdom nor the strength to do this work well, and are themselves 
in perpetual danger. If your wishes lead you in that direction, 
it can do no harm and may jDOSsibly benefit you, to be able to 
judge for yourself to what de^Dths the spirit of man may sink. I 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 43 

have witnessed it but rarely, for the sight is not a pleasant one, 
and my work has lain in other directions. I will sujnmon a mes- 
senger to accompany you." 

In accordance with that subtile law by wliicli spirit can com- 
municate with spirit, though at a distance, Margaret sent her 
message, and in response to it, there presently appeared the most 
beautiful being I had yet beheld. Her garments were radiantly 
white, and a sort of luminous atmosohere seemed to surround her 
like a halo. 

"Do then, indeed, women habitually visit these dreadful 
scenes?" I asked, as the messenger was approaching. 

" Women are better fitted for the work than men," was Mar- 
garet's reply. "They are safer from harm and more respected by 
the depraved of the other sex than are men. Know you not that 
a pure woman with a noble purpose in her heart may walk safely, 
though unguarded save by her own purity and nobility, any- 
where, whether on earth, in heaven, or in hsll? " 

This beautiful woman was unknown to me. I could not 
enter into her thoughts or divine her nature ; but she smiled 
sweetly upon me, and a sense of delightful companionstiip stole 
over me, and I felt at peace and rest in her presence. When she 
spoke, her voice was rich and mellow, and sweet as the sweetest 
music. Its very tones seemed to convey her meaning, so that 
words w^re almost superfluous. 

We at once set out upon our journey. We seemed to descend 
by steep and circuitous paths. As we proceeded I perceived 
many spirits, all intent upon their own pursuits. Tlie way grew 
darker and rougher, and the forms that we saw were more for- 
bidding in their aspects. My companion stojDped now and then 
to exchange a kindly greeting with some one she met, and I no- 
ticed with wonder how the grim faces lighted up with a bor- 
rowed beauty while she spoke to them, as if her very presence 
were a benediction. She was evidently held in veneration by all. 
Still we pursued our way until everything became so changed 
that it was as though we had entered another world; and here 



44 A NARKATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

my companion began her mission in earnest. A group of men 
and women were indulging in boisterous mirth and singing ribald 
songs. She stopped and spoke to them with a sweet seriousness 
wliich at once arrested their attention and commanded their re- 
spect. There was no seeming condescension in her manner. She 
spoke to them almost as though she might have been one with 
themselves; nor was her conversation anything of the sermonizing 
order. Its cliief intent seemed to be to arouse the best and kind- 
liest feelings of their hearts, and thus prepare the ground for any 
good seed which might be sown therein. I took note that the 
songs and rough jests ceased, and more than one woman drew a 
little one side, as if ashamed of the part she had been playing. 

Being a stranger among them, my companion was ques- 
tioned regarding whence she came, and she gave an earnest and 
minute description of the sphere from whicli she descended. 
Her auditors looked at one another in silence. One or two shook 
their heads as if doubtful whether the story were to be taken for 
anything more than a flight of the imagination. One rougher 
than the others in his appearance, but yet with a certain honest 
look about him, at last ventured to speak liis thouglits. 

"Well," said he, "I have been over on this side a good 
many years as they count time on earth, and I've never found 
any better place than this. I know there are a good deal worse 
ones over yonder, and so I think myself fortunate to be as well 
ofE as I am." > 

Another taking courage added his testimony. "I'm sure 
I'm happy enough here. We have pretty jolly times, don't we, 
boys?" 

All nodded in assent. 

One young woman who had been regarding the stranger in- 
tently from the moment of her first appearance, said in a low 
voice, audible only to ourselves : 

"This is not the kind of heaven I used to picture to myself 
when I was in earth-life. I am not in hell, for tliat is over yon- 
der; so this must be heaven;" but it seems to me there might be 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 45 

a brighter, happier place, and if there is, I wish I knew the way 
there." 

My companion put her arm about this young woman, and 
drawing her to one side, held a long conversation with her. I 
know not what they said, but when they returned, there was a 
look of inspiration which I had not before seen on the face of 
tlie one, and tears in the eyes of the other. As we passed on I 
saw that the latter ]iad left her companions, and was sitting by 
herself, apparently lost in deep thought. 

" Are these people really as contented and happy as they 
seem?" -I asked. 

'*Yes," my companion replied; "they are as happy as their 
natures will permit them to be. They have no jDerception of 
any higher or better life, and so feel no longings to attain to such 
a life. As soon as they are made to realize that there is a possi- 
bility of j^rogress, an unwonted restlessness will seize them, and 
they will not long remain here. That young woman will pres- 
ently find herself stifled by her present surroundings, and will 
be forced to seek a purer atmosphere." 

"AYliat class of people in earth-life contribute to people 
this sphere?" 

"Tliose whose hearts are not inherently bad, but whose 
spiritual natures have not been developed ; those who have lived 
selfish lives, finding in the gratification of the animal instincts 
and propensities their greatest, in fact their only pleasure. They 
are incredulous as to even the existence of a higher sphere than 
their own, because their spiritual perceptions have not yet been 
awakened." 

" What is their manner of living? " 

"Very similar to that to which they were accustomed on 
earth. Good and evil impulses alike sway them by turns. They 
know no pleasures beyond those of the senses, and selfishness is 
the dominant feeling. They have their discords and conten- 
tions, their misunderstandings and their feuds, the same as on 
earth; and yet they will tell you, as they have done, that they 



46 A NARKATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

are contented and happy. It is this class of spirits that mortals 
have most to fear. Unscrupulous and almost conscienceless 
they care not what trick they impose upon the credulous, what 
the consequences of their evil impulses. There is a constant ef- 
fort on their part to gain the control of mediums for a gratifica- 
tion of propensities which is denied them in their present life. 
Oh, earthly mediums can not be too careful to surround them- 
selves with an atmosphere of personal purity, in order to render 
themselves unapproachable by the influence and control of such 
spirits as these." 

Still we descended. It became so dark that we had almost 
to grope our way, but here and there there seemed to be beacon 
fires, which lit up the scene with a lurid glare. At last we reach- 
ed a jDlain. The path seemed to lie narrow and uncertain be- 
tween morasses on either hand. Here and there ditches, half- 
filled with slime, were revealed in the fitful light of the fires. 
Forms as of strange, hideous creatures crouched here and there, 
and glared at us with flaming eyes and hungry faces. I shud- 
dered and cowered, and drew closer to my companion, who 
walked confidently and fearlessly along the path, her radiant 
atmosphere gleaming out in the semi-darkness. The path seem- 
ed to stretch far ahead through a landscape whose dreary monot- 
ony was almost unbearable. Low clouds hung over our heads, 
and they, too, were lit up with fiery touches by the fires. Great 
bats flapped their wings and circled round and round overhead, 
and once the melancholy call of an owl fell upon my ear. Pres- 
ently other strange cries and wails reached me, causing my blood 
to run cold with horror. 

Involuntarily I exclaimed : 

"Listen to the wails of lost souls! " 

"Truly, yes," responded my companion; "souls to whom 
were given the light of truth and the guide of conscience, and 
the knowledge of the spirit, but who wilfully turned their backs 
upon them all, and thus forfeited heaven and happiness. Their 
souls are lost in this morass, while the darkness which envelops 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 47 

them j^revents their finding the path again without great diffi- 
culty. Here they must wander and struggle and wail and de- 
spair, until they willingly o23en their hearts to the truth, and reach 
out their hands for that help which will surely be given them 
when they sincerely desire it." 

Here and there were rudely constructed huts which seemed 
to serve the purposes of shelter for the wretched inhabitants of 
this sphere. In front of one of these sat a woman with dishevel- 
ed hair and distorted countenance, wringing her hands, and now 
and then uttering fierce cries. 

My companion paused to speak with her. 

" Will you tell me the cause of your distress? " she asked. 

At first the only reply was inarticulate raving; but presently 
the maniac, for so she seemed, became calmer, and with a con- 
fidence inspired by the sweet, pure face of the questioner, she 
wailed out : 

" I murdered my unborn babes one after another. I had 
not the excuse of shame which I wished to conceal. I was a 
fashionable woman, and I wanted my time to devote to society 
and my own amusement, and children would be in the way; so 
I mm'dered them, poor helpless things murdered by the one 
who should rather have sacrificed her life to protect them. Oh, I 
am a murderess!" she fairly shrieked. "Sometnnes their little 
innocent faces look down reproachfully out of the clouds, and 
then I go mad — mad — mad!" and indeed she did, manifesting 
all the symptoms of the most violent form of insanity. 

" Do you not comprehend one of the causes which peoples 
the lunatic asylums in the earth? It is sometimes a relief for 
these mad spirits to control a human form, and give way to their 
paroxysms through that organism. As humanity is elevated and 
made to recognize and obey the higher laws of its being, this 
sphere will have fewer inhabitants, and this form of insanity 
among humans become more rare. When they learn the sin of 
forcing an unwilling motherhood upon a woman who is neither 
spiritually nor affection ally prepared for the responsibility and 



48 A NABRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

the privileg-e, then will the cause of sin such as this woman has 
committed, be removed. No woman should become a mother 
until her desires go forth to meet and to welcome the duties and 
joys which belong to motherhood." 

"Do you ever call for your injured children to come to 
you? " my companion asked the wretched woman. 

"Call for them! How should I dare to do so? They would 
curse me ! " 

"No, they would come to love and bless and help you." 

"Oh, if I only thought so! If I only dared!" and for a 
moment her ravings ceased in thoughtful silence. 

" Learn to forget yourself and your own misery, and think 
of these little ones whom you might have loved and cherished. 
Learn to love them, and love will work wonders for you." 

A gleam of hope came into the despairing eyes, and we 
passed on, leaving her with that new-born hope to comfort her 
heart. 

" When she calls for them in love, then those little ones will 
be brought to her, and will help to lead her out of this terrible 
place," was what my companion said to me. 

" You leave a word of comfort with every one," I remarked. 

"That is my mission," she returned. 

Then other sounds fell upon my ears, and in the weird light 
we saw a man apparently beside himself with terror. His hand 
was outstretched as if to ward away something which menaced 
him, and though his face was half averted, his eyes seemed held 
as if by a spell, by the cause of his terror. Presently I dis- 
tinguished what it was. A huge serpent lay coiled at his feet, as 
if about to spring upon him, its tongue protruding and its fiery 
eyes gleaming upon him and holding him in spite of his will. 
Lizards crawled over his feet, and rats and all sorts of noisome 
creatures ran or crept hither and thither about him ; but these 
lesser annoyances were for the instant forgotten in the greater 
fear which paralyzed him. After a time the serpent, as if its 
purpose had changed, slowly uncoiled itself and crept away, and 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 49 

then these inarticulate utterances which had at first attracted 
our attention took the form of words, and the man prayed and 
cursed almost in the same breath. At one moment he defied 
the hideous creatures which surrounded him, and bid them do 
their worst ; at the next he begged to be delivered from them. 

"This is the drunkard's hell," said my companion; "a hell 
which begins even upon earth. This man gave himself up to 
the slavery of drink; he destroyed his own prospects in life ; 
begat children upon whom the curse is perpetuated; impover- 
ished his family ; seduced his friends to a like destruction ; broke 
his wife's heart; and at last died of delirium tremens. He has 
brought himself to his present condition, and here he must re- 
main until he feels remorse, not for the consequences of his sins, 
but for the sins themselves." 

Presently we came to another man sitting silent and bent, 
and with his hands pressed to his breast, 

"Behold," said my companion, " a victim of remorse. It 
burns in his bosom night and day like a perpetual fire, and yet 
it does not help to lift him out of his present condition, because 
he will not even admit to his heart a full sense of his guilt, but 
is continually justifying and finding excuses for himself" 

" Wliat was this man's sin? " I queried. 

" He won the love of an innocent girl, and through that 
love, which was yielded entirely and confidingly to him, he 
dragged her down to her destruction, even glorying in the 
shame he brought upon her. She in her turn became desperate, 
and sank to as great a depth of degradation as he, revenging 
herself upon his sex by luring as many as possible to their de- 
struction. But her sins fall in great measure upon him, and he 
still refuses to recognize that." 

With head still bowed he had not yet perceived our pres- 
ence. Presently he exclaimed, as if the words were wrung from 
him by inward agony : 

" Oh, it burns ! it burns ! it is burning my heart out ! "Will 
this inward fire never cease? My God! how can I endure it 



50 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

longer? Yet I am sure I was no worse than the rest. If they 
were justified, why was not I?" 

Then my companion spoke : 

" Because to you were given greater and clearer powers of 
spiritual discernment, but you scorned the gifts and made no 
use of them." 

Then something happened which filled me with wonder. 
The man looked up as the words fell upon his ear and a strange 
terror seized him, and he shrank back and cowered as if in fear. 

"Who are you? " he at length found voice to ask. "Mary, 
is it truly you, or has my punishment taken on a new form, and 
is this strange illusion to haunt me in the future, to be a perpet- 
ual reminder of that which I would forget? " 

"Eobert, it is I," was the reply given in the lowest and 
sweetest of accents. 

" It is false ! " he shrieked, springing to his feet. " It is only 
an illusion from which I will escape. Mary is here somewhere 
in this valley of the shadow of death. Why should she not be 
when I am here? A wicked woman is worse and more degraded 
than a wicked man — all know that ; and I once saw her here 
when I first came, when she came to reproach me for her mis- 
ery, and to taunt me with my own." 

"Robert, it is indeed I," again replied the sweet low voice. 
" I was here, but I am here no longer. I have found a better way, a 
better place. Robert, I loved you once, I love you still ; let the past 
be blotted out between us, and let me lead you up to the light." 

She held out her arms to him, and the man sinking to his 
knees, clung to her skirts and sobbed like a child. For the 
first time in all his earthly and spiritual life his heart was 
touched and softened; and then I saw a strange thing occur. I 
seemed to see the fire within his bosom, and his tears descend 
and extinguish it; and encircled by the arms of the woman he 
had so grievously wronged, he felt peace and rest. 

"Will you come with me?" the white-robed miuistering 
angel said to this man who was stained with foulness from his 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 51 

vile dwelling place, and though she clasped him in her arms, 
her garments received no stain. 

"Not yet, oh, Mary, not yet. I am not worthy. But I 
will make myself worthy." 

I turned away and left them alone, unwilling to profane 
the sacredness of their interviews by my presence. The kiss she 
imprinted upon his forehead when at last she found it necessary 
to leave him, he seemed to receive as a benediction. 

" Robert, remember we belong to one another ! " were her 
parting words. 

I would not break the spell which seemed to be upon my 
companion by any words of idle questioning, as eager as was 
my curiosity. After a time she herself spoke. As she turned 
her face towards me it seemed transfigured with a celestial light. 
There was a radiant smile upon her lips, though tears stood in 
her eyes. 

" You do not understand it? " 

" No ; it is all a mystery." 

" It is true. I am the woman whom that poor wretch be- 
trayed. I once found an abiding place in his death and terror- 
shadowed valley, and have progressed to my present position 
only by terrible and prolonged self -conflicts. You wonder why 
I am sent back as a messenger. A guide in such a land as this 
should knoAv it well; and I do know it, alas ! too well. I know 
the outward terrors of these wretched people, and their inward 
sufferings and struggles ; and I know the path which leads out 
of their present condition, because I myself have traveled it. It 
is part of the atonement I must make for the sins committed in 
the past. The obligation to come here will be removed only 
when I have helped to undo as much evil as I helped to create 
in the world. Oh ! no one can measure the consequences of his 
evil acts until he enters the Spirit-world. My garments were 
once as foul and stained as any of these ; but see, thy are white 
now !" she exclaimed joyously. As I looked at her, the lumin- 



52 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

ous atmosphere which still surrounded her seemed to dart out 
rays of living light. 

"Does it not make you very wretched? " I asked, "to come 
here so continually and witness so much misery?" 

"It did at first," was the reply, "but now I feel that no 
more. The sight of it all only calls forth my fullest sympathies, 
and gives me power and will to work. Now I can look beyond, 
and see all these lost souls rpdeemed and purified, and walking 
in the light of perfect day. In a little while they shall sing a 
new song, and this knowledge takes away the pain. My mission 
for to-day is ended," she continued; " but I have one more place 
to show you." 

Presently we came to a sort of parapet, from which we 
looked down into what at first seemed unknown and unfathom- 
able depths, so impenetrable was the darkness which overshad- 
owed it ; but after a time my vision became strengthened so that 
I began dimly to perceive what was before or rather beneath 
us. I saw here and there a figure walking about with a sort of 
uncertain movement, as one might walk in a dream or in utter 
darkness. Some of them stumbled, others stretched out their 
hands as if to feel their way. But far more than were walking 
were sitting or crouching immovable, as though they were hewn 
of stone. There was no sound of voices, no shrieks, no wails, 
no curses. The silence was profound and oppressive, and was 
only broken by an occasional sigh or moan, as one sometimes 
moans in sleep, which low as it was, smote on the ear with ter- 
rible distinctness. 

What did it mean? 

My companion divined my inward questioning, and replied : 

" These are in a spirit lethargy — a soul sleep, which has 
bound many of them for years, and which may bind them for 
years to come. Their spiritual natures are wholly dormant, and 
being taken from the material world, where alone their energies 
found activity, they have necessarily fallen into their present 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 53 

state. These souls are, so to speak, yet in embryo, and have not 
been born into spirit-life." 

"From wliat classes of mortals come these inhabitants of 
this land of sleep and death? " 

" Those who know nothing whatever of spiritual life while 
on earth. Those in whose hearts were no high aspirations, no 
sense of purity and goodness, and who mocked at the very words. 
Those wlio by vicious lives have murdered the spirituality witliin 
them. Those wlio allowed their souls and their intellects to l^e 
fettered by superstitions, and followed blindly tlie leading of 
others. Those wlio lived wholly for self, refusing to recognize the 
grander meanings and purposes of life. In the spliere we have 
just left, the spiritual perceptions were not killed, only per- 
verted or put aside. Here they liave either never been de- 
veloped, or else have been so nearly destroyed that only the germ 
remains. That can never jDcrish, and will some day, perhaps in 
the far future, be developed into active life." 

" "Wliy do we not descend and seek to awaken them to a sense 
of their needs, and the methods to attain to spiritual groA\1;h and 
development ? " 

" We can not go to them. They are shut off from all com- 
munication from those above them. As they have wliolly missed 
the lesson which the earth-life liad for them, they must go back 
to the earth to get their first glimmering-s of light and knowl- 
edge. Tliose whom you see moving about are beginning to feel 
the awakening of the faint spiritual life. They Mill be attracted, 
without knowing how or why themselves, back to earth, and will 
then painfully and laboriously learn that which tliey failed to 
learn before." 

"But if they were to look upward could they not see us? 
Could we not beckon to them, and so awaken them to a knowl- 
edge of sometliing better than tlieir present condition, and to a 
desire to attain to it?" 

" No ; as their sjjiritual senses are dulled, their eyes are blind- 
ed to all things spiritual. They can not see us. They could not 



54 A NARRATIYE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

hear our voices. We can only communicate with them by the 
means of earthly organisms. Sometimes at the stances held on 
earth, one of these benighted spirits finds his way thither, and 
by listening to words uttered through mediums, for the first time 
becomes conscious of the existence of a higher spiritual life. 
From that hour dates his sjjiritual progress. But, oh ! his way is 
a long and weary one ! If mortals could only realize it, how 
anxious they would be to avoid traveling it themselves, how 
zealous to help others ! " 

" Sadly we retraced our steps to the brighter world above, the 
experiences of the day being yet all too much for me to fully 
comprehend. Again I exclaimed, "How much there is to learn ! " 

" Yes ; eternity leads us along a path of perpetual knowledge. 
Wlien we have reached the end, we shall stand on an equality 
with God." 

My comiDanion at parting said to me : 

"There is yet one sphere which we have not visited; but you 
have surely seen enough for to-day. I perceive that in the near 
future you will be conducted thither without my companion- 
ship. My work does not call me there.' 

" Is it not a still lower sphere? " I asked in consternation. 

" No ; it ranges above those we have visited. It stands almost 
on an equality with this, only this is the summer land, and that 
is the domain of winter." 



AFTER THE CHA-NQE CALLED DEATH. 55 



CHAPTER VI. 



WORK, DEVICE, KNOWLEDGE AND WISDOM. 

Wliat a sense of freedom liad come into my life! There 
were no petty, binding cares to keep me in bondage ; there were 
as yet no duties to hold me in their inflexible grasp. I was free 
to go whither I would, and free and eager to learn. Although I 
had been permitted a visit to the nether splieres, and had acquir- 
ed some knowledge of their inhabitants and their spiritual con- 
ditions, I felt that I had yet everything to learn about my own. 
I had met many spirits, and they were so kind and cordial that 
already a genuine friendship was beginning to dawn in my heart 
for more than one — a friendship which was not to be limited or 
modified by the vicissitudes and limitations of time, but which 
was to go on strengthening to all eternity. 

One fact impressed itself upon me : while none seemed in 
haste, all were busy. Tliere was no restlessness, no hurry; but 
each gave the impression of ha\dng definite duties which were 
not onerous but pleasurable. Hitherto I had been for the most 
part so occupied with myself and my own personal happenings, 
that I had hardly found place in my mind for other than a merely 
superficial curiosity. But now the question began to come home 
to me, as sometlung which it was not only my right but my duty 
to ask, so that I might be preparing myself to make my own 
choice of work when this sweet hour of rest had ended, and I 
liad become sufficiently strong in spirit to find labor a pleasure 
instead of a task. 

My two boys who shared my home — our home — were my 



56 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

almost constant companions, and often my instructors. How 
strange, and yet how natural it seemed to turn to their sweet, 
innocent faces and gather from their lijjs the heavenly wisdom 
which they had been garnering for years, while I was still trou bled 
about things of earth ! 

Margaret, too, was my frequent visitor, but she liad duties 
which called lier away from me at times, and I the more willingly 
jDarted from her because I knew that a portion of these duties at 
least lay witli tlie loved ones I had left behind. Sometimes my 
boys and I visited the old familiar place, but there was quite as 
much sadness as pleasure in the visit, for not yet could I make 
my presence felt; not yet communicate with those I loved. 

"Mother," said my boys to me, '■'■we will take you now to 
show you what j^^our neighbors are doing." 

Then we set out. Our first visit was to a studio where an 
artist sat at work upon a masterpiece. How the colors glowed 
beneath his touch ! How, as they were blended, they took the 
form almost of reality, and the picture, the creation of his genius, 
seemed, not a combination of canvas and pigments, but an act- 
uality. I had the artist soul within me, but the circumstances 
of my life had denied it expression. Amid the manifold duties 
of my earthly existence there had been no time nor opportunity 
for artistic effort; but every one can cultivate his or her taste. I 
had done this until I knew and could appreciate a good picture, 
and find in it a rare spiritual delight; but how crude all earthly 
efforts seemed when I looked upon the wonder before me. I 
stood spellbound, reveling in an enjoyment which I had never 
known before. The artist did not interrupt me for a time, but 
permitted me to enjoy my transports in silence. 

At last he spoke : "You are seeing but half. Would you 
like to see the other half? " 

I looked at him in wonder. Wliat was there to see more? 
At that moment the present scene faded instantaneously away, 
and I could look into an earthly studio, and into the mind and 
soul of the artist occupant. A strange thing I saw there. I saw 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 57 

that he had caught a spiritual vision of the beautiful picture 
which I had just examined, and this vision so enchanted him 
that he needs must liimself try to paint it. So with unwonted 
haste and fervor he was tracing the outlines upon the canvas be- 
fore him. 

"Wliat does it mean?" I asked, 

"It means," replied the artist, "that every picture of gen- 
uine merit on earth is the faint copy of a spiritual reality. The 
artist sees the picture before he paints it, and if you question 
him he will tell you that his own achievement falls far short of 
the excellences which were presented to his spiritual vision. 
They call this gift genius on earth," he added with a smile. 

At our next visit we found a poet busy with his pen. On 
earth he had made himself a name, but his spirit utterances 
were far grander, far more sublime. Then his inspiration came 
from the sphere nearest the earth ; now it descended from the 
spheres above. The page seemed to glow with the luminous- 
ness of his thought. Again the earth-vision opened up to me, 
and again I beheld the earthly shadows of the spiritual reality. 
A woman was busy at some womanly task, and as she worked, 
fragmentary lines of poetry came into her mind. At first she 
disregarded them ; but they seemed to insist upon being record- 
ed ; and so finally, almost sighing at the trouble they gave her, 
she WTote them down. Then other lines followed, and these, too, 
she penned in accordance with the resistless impulse which con- 
trolled her ; and so she wrote on from time to time, not knomng 
wherefore or what she was writing, until at last a poem began to 
shape itself, and she perceived its meaning. When the poem 
was nearly completed, the inspiration left her, and she was com- 
pelled to finish it, and by means of her own dulled intellect sup- 
ply the missing lines. Tlie poem was not the same as that pro- 
duced by the spirit writer, but identical in idea and sentiment; 
though having been filtered, as it were, through the medium of 
her weaker, more earthly intelligence, it was feebler in charac- 
ter, and lacked the loftier expression and purer sentiment. 



58 A NARKATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

" Is this the way our poets write? " I asked in wonder. 

*'A11 true poetry is an inspiration from the higher spheres," 
was the reply. 

Passing on, we paused where an author sat in the midst of a 
group to whom he was reading a tale he had just written. It 
was grand in conception and noble in execution, narrating the 
trials and disciplines of the spirit. As he read the listeners were 
thrilled, and catching the inspiration of the writer, felt them- 
selves uplifted to a higher spiritual plane. Again my attention 
was directed to earth, and to my surprise I found there were 
listeners there also; listeners whose spiritual ears, dulled by the 
interposition of the material veil, caught not the details of the 
story, nor even its full beauties, but only a faint impression of 
its grandeur and truth. They did not know that they were list- 
ening, but thought it was the spirit within them moved to this 
wondrous play of fancy ; and forthwith they sat down to write, 
and each produced a tale, colored and shaped by his or her own 
experiences, impressions, prejudices and capabilities, yet all 
bearing the same faint resemblance to the wonderful spirit storj'^, 
the spiritual lessons of the one being transferred into earthly les- 
sons by the many. 

"Truly this is wonderful, said I, adoressing one of the 
group, for here we have no need to wait for introductions, but 
soul recognizes soul, and may freely interchange thought with- 
out those safeguards of guarantees by mutual acquaintances, 
which are found necessary on earth. 

" Is there, then, no such thing as originality among mor- 
tals?" 

"No," was the reply. "Earth is only the reflex of the 
Spirit- world." 

We passed on and came to a place where spirits of high in- 
telligence, who had interested themselves with science on earth, 
and who were there eager to wrest from nature her deepest se- 
crets, even still true to these instincts, and with enhanced oppor- 
tunities, were acquainting themselves with the operations of 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 59 

material and spiritual laws, and experimenting with the results. 

Now, behold again the earthly shadow ! Many men felt 
their influence as it descended to earth, and the minds of many 
were turned in like directions; and I was impressed with the 
knowledge that speedily there would be the announcement of a 
new discovery or invention upon the earth, and that more than 
one man would claim the credit of it. Do not such things hap- 
pen often? 

I found others, men and women, whose minds were less of 
a scientific and more of a philanthropic cast, conferring together 
how best they could help mortals and spirits in the lower 
spheres, and their work did not stop with themselves, but its in- 
fluence extended to the earth, and was the motive power of many 
good endeavors, and many of seeming good to those who were 
engaged in them, but which, when viewed from the standpoint 
of the Spirit-world, were perceived to be utterly valueless ; for the 
spirits can only perform through mortals that work which the 
latter are capable of doing. If they are ignorant, and with dis- 
torted senses of right and wrong, then the spirit influence, which 
might result in so much good, is seemingly wasted, for their ef- 
forts will be turned in useless or wrong channels. 

*' Would you see still more of this subtile spirit influence 
which is exerted over mankind? " 

I assented, and was taken to earth where an orator was hold- 
ing an audience spellbound by the eloquence of his words. But 
I, with my spiritual vision, beheld behind him the inspirer of 
his utterances — a spirit who seemed to hold him in his control, 
and not only whispered the words to his mind, but held his whole 
being as it under a spell. When he had concluded, and his spirit 
influence had left him, he found himself strangely fatigued, as 
well he miglit be after such an unwonted effort, which had called 
into play Jiis highest intellectual and spiritual jjowers, and the 
audience, in commenting upon his address, said : " He talked 
as if he were inspired ! " Little did they realize the meaning and 
truth of their own words. 



60 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

Returning to the spirit spheres, I found eveiywhere each 
one at work the same as upon earth, and at as great a variety of, 
and similar, employments ; only there was this difference : There 
' was no manifestation of corroding care, no complaint of weari- 
ness, no apparent desire to shirk their appointed tasks. Each 
worked as though it were not only a duty but a pleasure to be 
thus employed ; and as I questioned the different ones, I came 
to understand that, unlike the manners of earth, where circum- 
stances or misjudgment of others force many into employments 
entirely uncongenial to them, and in which they can take neither 
pleasure nor hope to excel because of their want of taste and ad- 
aptability, in the new life with which I was trying to familiar- 
ize myself, the work of each was that best suited to his or her 
tastes and abilities, and for that reason was an enjoyment and 
not a task. Labor was no longer a bondage enthralling body and 
soul, and dwarfing the intellect, but a delight which aided the 
faculties to expand and develop themselves in healthful ways. 

All professions, all occupations, seemed represented. There 
were teachers, preachers and physicians. Though the Spirit- 
world is on earth represented as a place where there is no ill- 
ness, it is a misrepresentation, for there are sick souls who need 
the care of those who know how to minister to a mind diseased. 
Their ailments are moral and spiritual ones, and require like 
remedies ; thus the pharmacopeia of the earthly druggist is un- 
known here. Another class of physicians devoted themselves 
wholly to the healing of mortals, using both material and spir- 
itual methods in accomplishing their cures — sometimes effect- 
ing them directly, at other times through the interposition of 
mediums. 

It has been remarked by one who thought he was saying a 
witty thing, that there are no lawyers in heaven. True, there 
are no lawyers as you understand the term on earth ; but there 
are spirits here who make the natural and spiritual laws of the 
universe their especial study, and whose business it is to explain 
to such as have not the time or the taste for thorough investiga- 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 61 

tion, those laws which most directly concern their being. Their 
business is not to mystify and evade the laws, as their namesakes 
do on earth, but to elucidate them, and as far as jjossible secure 
their obedience. 

Evei^where, pervading everything, I was permitted to per- 
ceive a subtile magnetic bond which connected the spiritual and 
material worlds so that the reality of the former was shadowed 
forth more or less distinctly in the latter. In their transmission 
from the higher to the lower plane of life, there was always 
more or less lost. The spiritual thought became materialized ; 
the divine truth lost its perfect lustre; the all-pervading love 
which actuates the good works of the Spii'it-world, when its 
beams had penetrated through the clouds — and must I say it? — 
the moral and intellectual miasma of earth, took on tinges of 
selfishness and phases of wrongly directed effort. The divine 
ideal became humanized and consequently defective. The pic- 
ture lost much of its brilliancy ; the poem its spirituality ; the 
story, instead of being the record of spiritual experiences, told 
of earthly w^oes, and recognized only earthly ideals of happi- 
ness. The invention w^as never quite complete; the discovery 
still left something undiscovered. Everything bore the mark 
of the finite — of the limited intelligence, the imperfect nature of 
humanity ; nevertheless the link w^as there and bound the two 
worlds together, making them, in a certain sense, inter-depend- 
ent, the one upon the other — certainly the lower upon the higher 
life. If these invisible bonds were severed, the earth would be 
left in spiritual darkness, and moral chaos would be the result. 
There would be no hope for the future — no means for progress, 
and retrogression would become the law of humanity. If these 
bonds were severed, on the other hand, the Spirit- world would 
find itself without a motive for mucli of its present w^ork, and 
would in time also fall into spiritual darkness, as it became 
peopled with degraded and darkened spirits from earth-life. 

All this I did not perceive of my own wisdom, but it was 
kindly and patiently explained to me by those who had a broader 



63 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

experience and fuller knowledge than I; and as I gradually 
came to comprehend the truth, how many things it made clear 
which had been mysterious to me while on earth. It revealed 
tliat there ^\as an ordering of, and a purpose in, all things, and 
that the word "chance" had no longer any place in the lan- 
guage,except as a name for something which existed not. 

There was a rare privilege accorded me. Again I find myself 
at a loss how to describe to you my experience, since there is noth- 
ing in earth-life which parallels it. I have to resort to the inade- 
quate phraseology of the senses in order to convey to your mind a 
comiDreliension of results. It seemed as though I saw^, or heard, 
or felt I knew not which, or how — no, I can not tell you. I will 
only say that It was revealed to me in a w^ay I can not describe be- 
cause I can not make you understand, that strong but invisible 
bonds, the same in character as those which connect the earth to 
the Spirit-world, connect the lower spheres of the latter world 
with the higher ones, and on these S23iritual wires, if I may so call 
them, descend truths from these higher spheres which enlighten 
those beneath them. The poet who, while on earth wrote his 
rare j)oems through inspiration from above, had not, in passing 
through the gateway of death, acquired a faculty of original 
thought and expression. While still on earth he insi^ired many 
lesser poets by the beauty, vigor and truth of his productions. 
Passing onward, when he was freed from the limitations of the 
body ho was enabled to exercise this faculty of inspiring others 
in far greater degree, so that many earthly poets sang faint 
echoes of his spiritual songs. But he in his turn was receiving 
grander inspiration from poets who had ascended to greater 
spiritual heights, and was himself probably echoing faintly the 
more glorious and perfect measures of the celestial spheres. Can 
it be that all truth, all beauty, all love, all wisdom, are sent oflF 
from the great central source like rays of light from your earthly 
sun, permeating all matter and all intelligence ? Should we not, 
then, both mortals and spirits, so fit ourselves that the divine 
beams may penetrate our souls? 



AST:ER TSE CfiAJJGE CALLED DEATH. 63 



CHAPTER Vn. 



BLESSED AEE THE TUBE IN HEART. 

I can not tell how long it was after this, but probably not 
long, that Margaret came and said a new lesson was J3repared 
for me if I was ready to receive it. Thirsting for knowledge, 
I eagerly assented. A mortal was just crossing to the hither 
side of the River of Death, and it should be my privilege to be 
one of those who should welcome her, and give her the first in- 
structions concerning the spirit land. It was a task which I 
longed, yet dreaded to accept. I thought it must be rarely sweet 
to help dispel the terrors with which most mortals, trained in an 
erroneous theology, are sometimes beset, upon their first entrance 
into the life unknown; but I myself felt so ignorant, so inade- 
quate to what seemed required of me, Margaret reassured me, 
and told me the needs of the moment would suggest what I 
should say and do. Moreover I was not to go alone. Othei's 
would accompany me, and a large band of spirits would wait to 
welcome the pilgrim as she reached the spirit sphere. 

I had but one companion, a man apparently in the prime 
of life, whose countenance bore the traces of a noble nature. 
We found the dead — the newly born — still in the deep uncon- 
sciousness which, in the case of many, accompanies the passage 
of one life to the other. She was a woman well advanced in 
years, but even in the sleep of death, with all the traces of the 
cares and sorrows and the sins of life (for who are there with- 
out sin?), and in spite of the gray hair, furrowed cheek and 
brow, there was a look of di\dne peace upon her face — a look 



64 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

which seemed so habitual that it had softened the lines and 
wrinkles, and rested in the cui've of the lips. 

. ^' Surely this was a saint upon earth ! " I exclaimed reverently 
as we stood beside her. 

"You speak truly," was my companion's response; and as I 
glanced at him when he uttered these words, I detected a re- 
semblance between the two, therefore I was not sm-prised when, 
bending over the sleeping form, he uttered the word, " Mother." 

The sleeper opened her eyes, and a joyful light shone in them 
as they fell upon her son. She stretched out her arms exclaim- 
ing, "At last ! at last ! " 

I turned aside and left mother and son to this their first inter- 
view, after having been severed, and then united, by death. 
Then when they needed me I retm-ned, and by kind words and 
necessary explanations sought to make the woman understand 
that she was at last really free from the earthly bondage. Then 
we half lead, half bore her away from earth, and as we ap- 
proached the spirit land, lo ! a great throng came out to meet us, 
and gathering around, they welcomed her with terms of love and 
gratitude, as one would welcome a friend and savior. Each had 
some story to tell of a kindness done, of a word spoken in season, 
of sympathy accorded when most needed, of faults gently re- 
proved — ^in brief, of work which an angel might do and be proud 
of, but which had been done by a weak, an erring woman ( for 
are we not all weak and erring in the earth-life? ). 

I felt my heart go out in a sudden gush of affection towards 
this woman, and I fancied that one of the greatest privileges the 
Spirit-world could bestow, would be to give me her sincere 
friendship. She seemed one among a thousand, and instead of 
teaching her I might learn from her. 

"You shall not lose sight of her," said Margaret, to whom I 
expressed this wish. "But I have something to tell you regard- 
ing her. If these very ones who have so eagerly welcomed her 
here to-day, and who have so gratefully acknowledged the bene- 
fits she has conferred upon them, had, while still in their mortal 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 65 

existence, known her true history, they would have turned from 
her as from a woman accursed." 

"Would they have been just in so domg? " I asked in won- 
der. 

"Oh, earthly vision is one thing, and spiritual vision is an- 
other. Does her face bear the stamp of the blessing or the cui-se 
of heaven?" 

" Its blessing, assuredly." 

" Then let not what I have told you lead you to prejudge 
and misjudge. Wait until you know her full history, which 
shall presently be revealed to you, and then we shall be 
able to measure your spiritual progress by the judgment wliich 
you accord this woman. Meantime there is one place within 
your reach which you have not visited. Will you do so now? " 

The direction that we took I remember not, nor the time 
occupied in reaching our destination. The air grew chilly, and 
the sky took a steely blue. The light was dazzling, and the 
scene one of rare beauty, but so cold, oh, so cold ! I shivered 
as the breath of winter fell upon me. I then recalled what 
Mary, the ministering angel, had said about the domain of win- 
ter. In the distance snow-crowned mountains gleamed and glit- 
tered in the sunlight, and giant icebergs, carved in a thousand 
beautiful and fantastic shapes, reflected all the colors of the 
prism. Rivers of ice wound their way through the landscape, 
dazzling in the light, but currentless. The trees were cased in 
crystals, reflecting the light from a thousand points, while the 
flowers and shrubbery were seemingly of congealed vapor, as 
fantastically beautiful as the frost-tracery upon earthly win- 
dows. Silver and crystal everywhere — pearls and diamonds; 
but no warmth of color, no warmth of light — beautiful and 
cold. The very houses were ice palaces or ice cottages, more 
radiant than marble. 

I saw many people who seemed for the most part perfectly 
content with their climate, as though they had never wished for 



66 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

or perhaps known any other ; only I noticed that now and then 
one shivered slightly, as if unconsciously. 

A strange object met my view here. As strange as was 
everything about me, this object, being found anywhere in the 
Spirit- world, seemed out of place. It was a man who wore only 
the scantiest of rags, and carried upon his back a sort of sack. 
He was seeking here and there for rubbish of any and every sort, 
which, when found, he gathered up and put in his bag with an 
eagerness that amounted almost to a greed. He shivered con- 
tinually, and now and then muttered to himself: "I am so cold! 
Will I never be warm again? " When he met a passer-by he 
held out his hand as if asking alms. 

"Are there then beggars and tramps in the Spirit- world?'' 

"Yes, many," was the reply of my companion. "They are 
found principally in this and the lower spheres, though they oc- 
casionally wander even into higher ones. They belong nowhere, 
as they have no home. You are astonished and want an expla- 
nation. Well, I will tell you what this man was, which will ac- 
count for what he is : 

"In earth-life there was once a merchant prince whose name 
was a power in the financial world. Rising from poverty and 
obscurity, he reached the topmost round of the financial ladder. 
He was strictly honest as the world counts honesty. He told no 
business lies. He met all his obligations promptly and fully ; 
but he was selfish to his heart's core. He oppressed the poor. 
He paid his employes the lowest wages for which he could get 
men and women to work, and when old age overtook them, he 
turned them off to linger on and finally to die in destitution, and 
put younger ones in their places. If he ever gave to charitj'^, he 
did it blowing a trumpet before him, so that he might reap a 
sevenfold advantage in his business. There was not one man or 
woman in all the world, outside his own family, who could say 
that they had ever known him to speak a genuinely kind word 
or do an unselfish act. In his veins seemed to flow ice instead 
of blood. At last he passed away, and not one human being 



AFTEU THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 67 

was the better for his having lived, save those who inherited his 
money. He had heaped up wealth on earth, but he could not 
take a penny of it with him ; and, though he belonged to an 
aristocratic and exclusive church, he had utterly neglected to 
lay up treasures in heaven. He had not even builded himself a 
house. Therefore you behold him homeless, friendless, desti- 
tute, begging of those whom he once oppressed. It Is the old 
story of Dives and Lazarus revised. True to the instinct of 
greed which governed him on earth, he must accumulate some- 
thing, and as his accumulations there were utterly worthless 
when gauged by the standard of eternity, so he goes on gather- 
ing worthless rubbish." 

This story gave me much to think about; but I put it aside 
for the present, in the more absorbing interest which the scene 
awakens. 

"But what strange place is this," I asked, "where winter 
seems to reign perpetually? " 

"This," Margaret responded, *'is the realm of pure intellect 
and of self. Truth sheds its light here, but the beams of love 
which lighten and vivify the sphere from which we came, never 
descend, never melt the perpetual ice and snow of this fairy-like 
scene ; never warm human hearts. Here those who lived pure- 
ly intellectual lives find their congenial home — men who were 
given up wholly to scientific and business pursuits, and never 
cultivated the affections ; men who were honest and upright from 
pride or instinct, but who never knew the meaning of the word 
charity; men who sought to be just but not merciful; men who 
were never stirred by kindly or affectionate impulses toward 
their own sex, and who knew not the higher meaning of the 
word love in their association with each other. Here some of 
the so-called wisest men and the brightest geniuses of earth 
have found themselves upon their first entrance to the Spirit- 
world. But as truth may and does enter here, it furnishes an 
open door through which they may pass, if they will, to the 
warmer spheres beyond." 



68 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

It was a very curious scene to me. I watched its inhabi- 
tants one after another as they were busy at their worli, for they, 
too, were all busy. Margaret at last directed my attention to- 
wards one man, and told me to study him well, I did so, and this 
was the story that was gradually revealed to my intelligence : 

I seemed to see a young boy possessing a warring nature, 
irreconcilable with itself, growing up in poverty and obscurity, 
and compelled to fight the battle of life against heavy odds. He 
was a strange boy, not silent but uncommunicative, and nobody 
understood him; and as he grew uj) and peculiar inherited traits 
developed themselves, he became a strange man, and people 
understood him still less, — though few ever realized the fact. 

Surrounded in all the years from early youth up to the 
prime of manhood by adverse circumstances of diverse charac- 
ter, beset by temptations to which he yielded, and giving way to 
weaknesses of character that seemed to continually clog his pro- 
gress, there was some subtile power which guided and protected 
him, and which, while he constantly struggled with the circum- 
stances of his life and his own inherent weaknesses, — and almost 
as constantly failed, and thus seemed to be continually descend' 
ing, — yet constantly urged him upward and onward in a moral 
and intellectual progress, which he himself comprehended quite 
as little as any one else ; yet this progress seemed almost wholly 
objective, and only stamped the outside of his nature, not enter- 
ing into it deeply. By all precedents given his character, pre- 
natal antecedents, and the surroundings of his life, with its tem- 
ptations, and its absence of opportunities for development in 
right directions, he should have descended until he found his 
level with the ignorant and the degraded. 

But his subjective development was purely intellectual. He 
seemed a man almost without moral perceptions when judged 
inwardly, though his outward character had won the respect of 
all. He was a sort of faun, if we may imagine that the progress 
of intelligence and civilization for two thousand years should 
destroy in that mytliical creature something of its old simple 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 69 

spontaneity, and put intellect in its place, wliile he still retained 
his close sympathy and association with nature. In the truest 
meaning of the term he was a selfish man. That is, as a pliilos- 
opher, his views of life were centered in self. He believed that 
self was all that existence held for any one. Springing out of 
this selfish philosophy were terrible consequences to others. 
Outwardly cold in his demeanor, and passing in the estimation 
of his acquaintances as incapable of emotion, at times there 
surged through his being tidal waves of passion which swept 
him ofE Ms feet, and when they receded, left on each occasion a 
fresh victim wrecked and stranded on the beach. I will do him 
the justice to say that he struggled against these almost periodi- 
cal tides — struggled as few men ever struggle ; but they seemed 
as resistless as the ocean tides, and at last he came to regard re- 
sistance as useless, and saying, ''It is fate," yielded himself up to 
them. When they had passed, humiliated, he would flee from 
the society of men, and especially from that of women, leading 
the life of a recluse, no one but himself knowing the thoughts 
and feelings of his heart. For his victims he felt a sort of ten- 
der, romantic pity, — nothing more; and as time wore on and 
took them further and further away from his presence, all the 
pain of the pity died out, and the remembrance came to be 
pleasurable. It was impossible that his feelings should reach 
out so far from self as to enter into their shame, their agony, their 
remorse, possibly their degradation. 

He had won himself a name before the world, for he was 
gifted with a marvellous imagination. Whether in describing 
scenes, narrating events or depicting passion, he displayed the 
master hand, and men read and admired; women read and 
worshiped. The love of such a man was something to be 
sought, and to be proud of when attained. Therefore unusual 
temptations beset him — temptations from which he fled in his 
wiser moments, to which he succumbed in his weaker ones. 

At last, when he had readied middle life, he met a woman 
toward whom he was for some reason attracted. She was no 



70 A NARKATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

longer in the flush of youth, and her beauty had faded. To her 
mnocent woman's nature, totally ignorant of his character, this 
man's friendship seemed something to be prized. It was the 
old story of Francesco de Rimini and Paolo. They read togeth- 
er some tale of wild and passionate romance, until at last " their 
lips all trembling kissed." 

" The book and writer both were love's purveyors. In its 
leaves that day they read no more." 

And now the scene changed, and I seemed to see the wo- 
man's story, and it was this: 

Marrying early and unfortunately, she had suffered untold 
agonies in her married life. Though she was a mother, and her 
maternal instincts had been stirred to their depths, she knew 
nothing of that conjugal devotion which recognizes maternity as 
its highest manifestation. Her life had been barren and cold, 
and when the heel of this man's passion came suddenly upon her, 
it took her unawares, and with all the innocence of an unde- 
veloped nature she did not at first understand it. When at 
length its meaning dawned upon her, she realized at the same 
time that he had become very dear to her; but she did not yield 
without a struggle. She passed sleepless nights and fasting 
days. You will say that there ought to have been no doubt, no 
hesitation in her mind — that the way of right doing was very 
clear. But you know not, no, no^ one of you, what your own 
conduct might be under like circumstances, a like trial. It is 
possible you might yield without a struggle. 

As suddenly as he came to her, did her lover desert her. 
The gust of passion was past, and he had never known the spir- 
itual phase of love. When he came to himself, he felt the old 
humiliation at his weakness, the old remorse, not for the sin, but 
that he had not better mastered himself; and penning her a brief 
note, in which he expressed this humiliation and remorse, and 
telling her his only safety was in flight, he bade her farewell 
forever. She was stunned. The blow was so sudden and so 
severe, it seemed more than she could bear ; but whea the first 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 71 

poignancy had passed, its effect was to cause her to idolize her 
lover still more than she had done in the past. He had surely 
loved her, but had sacrificed that love to his sense of right and 
duty. Was he not to be revered? And thus she told herself 
that she ought to feel glad that he had sacrificed her and re- 
trieved his sin. Coming to a consciousness of her great error, 
and humbled in spirit, she resolved that her whole future life 
should become an atonement, and thus that became to her a 
sacrament which was to him a sin. She had wandered unwit- 
tingly from the beaten path, and retracing her steps, she went 
on to the end of her life-journey, finding herself, tlu'ough her 
very mistake, stronger and wiser, and better prepared to help 
others. Thus she secretly wore the scarlet letter within her 
soul, but it became to her, as it was to Hester Prynne, the badge 
of her higher mission, the reminder of her duty to others, the 
talisman of spiritual vision; and heaven's peace entered her 
heart, and wrote itself on her features, so that it was still traced 
upon her soul after it had quitted the body, as I myself had 
witnessed. Oh ! my dear friends, there are many modern Saint 
Mary Magdalenes, of whom the world has no knowledge ! 

Now this was my saint, whose very garments I had in my 
ignorance felt like touching reverently ! Where was I? What 
was I to think? I seemed to be losing all my old bearings. 

" Well, what is your judgment? " at last Margaret asked. 

"I know not," I replied. *'I need your help." 

" Then answer me : Was this woman blessed or cursed by 
this unlawful love? " 

"Surely she seemed to be blessed," was my hesitating reply. 

"Were others blessed or cursed because of it through her? " 

" Undoubtedly they were blessed, for did I not see the al- 
most innumerable multitude who came to welcome her, and 
who bore testimony to her good deeds?" 

"I draw no conclusions for you," returned Margaret. " You 
must draw them for yourself. But when will mortals realize their 
own short-sightedness, and learn to suspend their judgment 



72 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

concerning the conduct of others ! They can not look into one 
another's souls and perceive actuating motives; and in judging 
superficially they often judge unjustly. They do not realize 
that sometimes our very sins may become stepping-stones to a 
higher spiritual life, and bring us nearer heaven." 

"But did this woman never learn the real cause of her 
lover's desertion?" 

"No; she has idealized him until this day, and even now 
she is hojjing the hope she has cherished for years of meeting 
and being united with him in this world where it will be no sin. 
He came to the Spirit- world years ago. His fierce passions and 
his mental struggles burnt out his life, and he died prematurely. 
This woman was his last victim, and he, wlio never knew what 
real love is, nor believed in it, but who lived a purely intellect- 
ual life, save when scorched by a brief simoon of passion, has 
found his home in this winter land, where he must remain until 
the last of his victims has progressed out of the degradation for 
which he is responisble. See, he shiverst Some of the inhabi- 
tants are impervious to cold, but he is. not. During all the years 
since his death lie has not been permitted to gain a trace of this 
woman, and he knows not whether the consequences of his action 
upon hei life have been evil or otherwise. He is dreading the 
results to himself for he has not yet learned to think of her — of 
others; nor has he yet been willing to hasten the day of his de- 
liverance by descending to the darker spheres and helping to 
lead out those whom his own weaknesses and sins have helped 
to degrade." 

"But wiiy is it that he himself is not- condemned to those 
darker spheres, like that wretch whom I saw in the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death?" 

"Because there are extenuating circumstances. Because, 
In fact he has fought the battle of life against lieavy odds; and 
though he continually failed in many ways, his failures count 
for liim more than many another man's successes, because he 
struggled more than most. His sentence is to wait loveless and 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 73 

alone until the consequences of his past errors are undone, and 
he has learned the existence, and come to feel the need of that 
love which is as far above that passion by which he blasted so 
many lives, as the higher spheres are above the spheres of dark- 
ness and terror, and of obli\ion. In brief, he must learn to 
forget self in the thought of other selves, before he will be free 
from the fetters of ice which now enchain his soul.'* 

"But the woman who loves him — ^who has loved him so 
faithfully all these years, and who looks forward to meeting with 
him — will not the disappointment crush her?" 

" It might if it came upon her too suddenly. But tlie knowl- 
edge will not come as a disappointment when she is properly 
prepared to receive it. Their souls are not mates, and she will 
presently realize tliat fact, and will be reconciled." 

In my eagerness to fully master the subject which liad been 
presented to my mind by the experiences just narrated, I talked 
wifn others who were endowed with greater wisdom tlian I, and 
the following is the substance of what they said to me : 

In most other matters which concern human w^elfare, 
whether political, social or religious, the world has seen many 
changes. Human thought has been revolutionized many times. 
Old orders of things have been overturned and annihilated, in 
spite of the croakings of that large class of conservatives which 
has existed in all ages, and which always turns its eyes admir- 
ingly towards the past, deplores the present, and predicts e\al 
for the future. Chaos has sometimes seemed to result, yet in 
the end each succeeding condition has shown itself an improve- 
ment upon its predecessor. But in the relations of the sexes there 
has been little inherent change. The forms and ceremonies of 
marriage have varied with different nations and different races; 
sometimes a wife was stolen, sometimes purchased, sometimes as- 
sumed the relation by her own free consent; but the idea of 
wifehood in the mind of the husband to-day is substantially 
the same as that in the comprehension of the tent dwellers 
who first rudely organized society; that is, that a wife is some- 



74 A NARKATIVE OP PEHSONAL EXPERIENCES 

thing which a husband owns or possesses. More than that, the 
idea of the conjugal union, conceived when man was wholly on 
a material plane, and knew nothing whatever of his spiritual 
nature, and founded on the fiercest instinct of humanity, and the 
most debasing when it is not held in check by reason and mod- 
ified by spiritual development, — is still entertained by the 
multitude. Still further, the world does not yet comprehend 
that it is love, not law, that creates true marriage. Law recog- 
nizes it but does not and can not make it. It is right that it 
should be recognized and regulated by law for the good of so- 
ciety, the preservation of homes, the protection of wives, and the 
maintenance of the rights of children. Love without marriage 
is to be condemned for many reasons, but marriage without love 
is equally accursed. 

To those whose hearts are pure, love, even under the most 
unfortunate circumstances, may become a blessing and a sacra- 
ment; they will cast off the evil and retain only the good; but to 
those in whose hearts impurity dwells, though ten thousand 
priests should solemnize the bonds, and ten thousand legal doc- 
uments ratify them, marriage can bring only sin and degrada- 
tion. 

If there is a paradise on earth, it is a home where husband 
and wife truly love each other, and seek through their marriage 
a development of their spiritual natures ; nor are such marriages 
impossible, or even infrequent. Happy homes are the bulwarks 
of a nation's prosperity. 

Men and women can not belong to one another, save as 
they have freely bestowed and freely received their mutual af- 
fections. No man or woman can stand between wife or hus- 
band and heaven, acting as mediator or mentor. Each must be 
responsible directly to God and liis or her own conscience; and 
as a broader knowledge concerning humanity will lead us to 
dictate less to others what they shall do, and judge more rarely 
what they have done, so the same knowledge will recognize the 
nep4 of greater freedom for husbands and wives; greater confi- 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 75 

dence and less unworthy suspicion; and as a sure result, a great- 
er sense of personal responsibility on the part of each. 

There is much more I wish I might say to you on this sub- 
ject, but I have already sermonized too long, and it may be I 
have already said too much, for so few of you have ever dared 
think upon this subject, the most important to humanity, that 
it may be possible you have entirely misapprehended me. A 
majority of you entertain the same horror of free thought and 
fearless investigation in regard to social matters, that before the 
advent of modern Spiritualism was entertained toward the same 
liberality of thought and investigation in regard to theology. 
But I lived ujDon earth long enough to see the terrible prejudice 
against the epithet "free thinker " die away and be almost for- 
gotten save in the most bigoted minds. Indeed who are there 
of you wiio does not now pride himself upon being a "free- 
thinker" on religious matters in the truest and Ijest sense of that 
noble term? Some of you will, 1 hope, live to see the same de- 
sirable freedom of thought exercised in regard to social matters. 
But whether you have understood me or not, I do not think I 
have spoken in vain. What I have said will lead you to think, 
in spite of yourselves, and some day you may, perhaps, repeat 
your reading with a clearer comprehension. In truth I do not 
know that I myself quite understand all its bearings; but I have 
sought faithfully to repeat in substance Avhat was said to me. 
The lesson, so far as I can imderstand it, is this : That unselfish 
love may of itself eliminate thG evil which may pertain to it, 
and be blessed of heaven; while a selfish, sensual love, though 
the sanction of church and state rest upon it, carries with it 
only a curse, and retards the progress of the spirit. 

When next I saw the heroine of the romance I have narrat- 
ed, I remarked a wonderful change in her appearance. She was 
no longer old and worn, bearing the traces of her weary and 
sorrowful mortal years; but youth had come back to her — youth 
and beauty. The peace of heaven still set its seal upon her 
brow, but the wrinkles and lines of grief and care were obliter- 



76 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

ated. Radiant as she was with spiritual beauty, I felt more 
strongly attracted towards her than ever, and feeling that the 
privilege that had been accorded me in being the second to 
greet her on the shore of immortality, gave me a certain right. 
I did not scruple to seek her acquaintance. I found her char- 
acter a singularly sweet one. She had partaken of the Tree of 
Life, and her eyes had been opened to the knowledge of good 
and evil; but an atmosphere of moral purity pervaded her pres- 
ence, and all the evil thoughts seemed to hide themselves abaslied. 
Oh, love ! how little mortals understand it ! What sins are 
committed in its name ! How it is bound, strangled and out- 
raged ! and yet how it forgives, and blossoms into beauty and 
blessing wherever it can find an abiding place in a human soul ! 
How cold would be the earth, how cold would be human hearts 
without it! and who shall dare to say that this angelic visitant, 
when it knocks for admittance, is not heaven-sent? Let angels 
in the higher spheres alone be the judges. One who has been 
revered as a teacher and worshiped as a Savior of humanity, 
lo ! these eighteen hundred years, said . " Neither do I condemn 
thee ! " and again, " Much shall be forgiven because she hath 
loved much." The loving was not the sin but the saving grace. 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 77 



CHAPTER VIII. 



LO! A GREAT MULTITUDE. 

The tide of immigration sets steadily from yom* land to 
om*s. There is no emigration back to earth. All faces are turn- 
ed toward the Spirit- world; all feet are hastening hitherward, and 
all must come at last face to face with death, and standing on 
the shores of the mystic river, must bid an eternal farewell to 
earthly life, and venture with hesitation and fear, or with cour- 
age and faith, into the unknown and mysterious realm beyond. 

These pilgrims are coming, coming, coming, leaving behind 
them all that possessed material value on earth, and bringing 
only — themselves. If they have cultivated their spiritual natures 
and held themselves above the level of materiality, then they are 
rich indeed; but if earth and its cares engrossed all their atten- 
tion, and they had neither time nor thought for that "better part" 
for which Mary was commended, then no beggar on earth could 
be poorer or more destitute than these souls when they enter the 
life immortal. Nor do intellectual enlightenment, moral regen- 
eration and spiritual illumination wait upon them to be put on 
like an outward garment as soon as they have reached the spirit 
sphere. They are the true riches which must be acquired by 
laborious effort. As a man was upon earth, so does he find him- 
self when he first enters here. He who is ignorant, is ignorant 
still; he who is filthy, is filthy still; superstition still holds those 
spirits in its thrall who were its ^actims upon earth. 

It would seem to you that all must become Spiritualists 



78 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

■when they reach here, and the avenues of knowledge are thrown 
open to them ; and I will surprise you when I say that there are 
Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians and Quakers here, and all 
the different sects of religious beliefs, just as among you. There 
are those who bow to the supremacy of a spiritual pope, and 
who yet find auricular confession and the observance of rites and 
ceremonies, necessities to their religious life. True, they en- 
counter much to surprise them wlien they enter liere. Heaven 
is altogether different from what they pictured it; but their be- 
liefs and prejudices are stronger than the facts which come un- 
der their observation (is not this also the rule in the earth life?), 
and so they merely readjust themselves, still clinging as far as 
possible to their old tenets. But the time comes, sooner or later, 
when they grow out of these superstitions, and, getting at first 
faint glimpses of the truth, these glimpses become brighter and 
clearer as they seek for them. 

There is no more interesting study than to watch the arrival 
of these immigrants — these pilgrims, and to note their first im- 
pressions, experiences, surprises and disappointments. It is also 
sad to stand beside the bed of death, as it is often our privilege 
and our duty to do, and witness the terror with which theology 
has invested the passing from death unto life. Is it true that the 
Christian knows how to die? He may meet death serenely if he 
be a man of strong character, hopeful disposition, and with 
nerves not easily shaken; but with such a character, he would 
meet it no less bravely, were he a rejecter of all religious faiths. 
If he be timid and weak, given to apprehension, and shrinking 
from danger, not all the consolations and hopes which religion 
can afford mil save him from becoming terror-stricken when the 
last dread hour approaches. There is something appalling even 
to the stoutest heart, in going out to meet the unknown, and 
that is what all, save Spiritualists, must do. To them, and to 
them only, is the Spirit- world revealed. To them it is given to 
know that they are passing from darkness unto light; from death 
unto life ; from mortality to immortality. How strange that this 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 79 

glorious truth, which should be indeed the corner-stone of exist- 
ence, is rejected by so many earthly builders ! 

A woman was dying — one whom I knew upon earth. We 
were merely casual acquaintances, not friends, because she was 
a rigid churchwoman, and I was not. As the sheep were to be 
separated from the goats in that final terrible day, so it seemed 
to her meet, that as far as practicable the same separation should 
be effected in earth life. This appeared a very simi:)le matter. 
All members of the church — her church — were going to heaven; 
all who were members of no church were destined for the other 
place ; while she took to herself great credit for charity in sus- 
pending her judgment in regard to members of churches other 
than her own. She was most sincere in her religion. It tinged 
all her actions, and was, indeed, her very life. At last her hour 
had come. Her pastor was summoned. She felt tliat there was 
no security for her future, miless he should, by his j^resence at 
her deatli-bed, furnish her a sort of credentials — give her a letter 
of introduction, as it Avere — to that heaven of winch she so often 
spoke. He encouraged and composed her, allaying her fears, 
and assuring her that she had only to lean on her Savior, and 
when she opened her eyes in spirit life she would find herself in 
his arms. As she passed from earth with the name of Jesus on 
her tongue, and her whole thoughts centered on him, so she was 
born to sjnrit life with the same intense feeling clinging to her; 
the same utterances upon her lijDS. 

"Jesus, oh ! my Savior, help me ! " she exclaimed. Then as 
her newly acquired spiritual vision discerned the many forms 
standing around her, she reached out her arms imploringly, cry- 
ing: "Who are you? Are you angels? Which one of you is 
Jesus? Surely my Savior will be here to welcome and receive 
me!" 

"Jesus is here," was the reply given her; "but we have 
come to welcome you ! " 

" Then take me to him ! Let me behold him and be assur- 
ed of his love and forgiveness ! " 



80 A NAREATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPEKIENCES 

At that moment her eyes fell upon me, and with a start of 
terror she added : 

"You here! Then where am I? In mercy tell me where I 
am ! If you are here then I must be " 

She stopped short, the horror of the situation paralyzing 
speech. If she, a professing Christian, who had cast all her sins 
upon Jesus, and believed she had received his forgiveness and 
assurance of eternal happiness, found herself, after all, on the 
threshold of the future life, face to face with one doomed to per- 
dition, then her conversion must have been a delusion, her hopes 
a snare; and no wonder she could not voice her apprehensions. 

"Oh, take me to Jesus! Will not some one show me the 
way to my Savior? " were her agonized entreaties. But when I 
stepjDed forward, wishing to reassure her, she recoiled, and cov- 
ering her face with her hands, endured the agony of a despair 
which has no parallel on earth. 

But those whom she recognized as friends gathered around 
and encircled her, and took her in their arms and bore her away 
from earth, while the rest, myself among them, followed at a 
little distance, eager to see the first awakening of this soul to a 
comprehension of the realities of spirit-life. They laid her ten- 
derly down in a bower where immortal flow^ers gladdened the 
vision, and lent a sweet perfume to the air, where the melody of 
murmuring brooks fell restfully on the wearied ear, and of all 
that would delight, charm and soothe, nothing seemed lacking. 
But her eyes were blind, her ears deaf to the sights and sounds 
of heaven. She was disappointed beyond measure that she had 
not entered the celestial city of the apocalypse, with golden 
streets bordering a sea of jasper. She felt that this city must 
exist somewhere, and that she had been excluded because some- 
how the vicarious atonement had proved a failure in her case. 

"Where is the great white throne?" I heard her ask. 
" Shall I not see that? Shall I not stand before that and adore 
€rod forever? " 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 81 

And again the negative answer troubled and perplexed her 
beyond measure. 

Once more she asked : 

" Am I to have no golden harp? " 

A golden harp was placed in her hand. 

"Why, I can not play," she exclaimed in surprise, after a 
futile attempt to make music upon what was to her a new in- 
strument. 

"No," was the response; "not until you have learned." 

"Do we then have to learn here? I thought we were done 
with that when we were done with earth, and that I should play 
the harp as readily as I should sing." 

A smile and a shake of the head gave answer. 

"Where is my crown? Surely I was promised a crown if I 
bore the cross faithfully on earth." 

Some one wove a wreath of golden flowers and j^laced it 
upon her head — a coronet of whose beauty angels might be 
proud. But she removed it disdainfully ; and then, glancing 
around her, she seemed to notice for the first time that her 
friends were crownless and harpless. 

"Am I in heaven? " she asked as if completely bewildered. 
"Where am I? Where are your crowns and harps?" 

"You are in the land of spirits," they assured her, "and we 
neither wear crowns nor carry harps, because we have no need 
of them." 

"Oh! I can not understand i t. If my pastor was only here 
to explain it to me ! Oh ! if I could only find Jesus ! Jesus 
promised to be my friend, but he has forsaken me." She bow- 
ed her head and wept in utter liopelessncss. 

Then those whom she had loved before death di\dded them, 
gathered around her, and recalling her to her own personal af- 
fairs, caused her to temporarily forget her theological terror and 
doubt in the delight which this reunion afforded her — delight 
which had been at first entirely overlooked in the overruling 
feelin']: of the hour. 



S3 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

After a time I again ventured to draw near her, and found 
that she received me, not cordially, but without her first mani- 
festation of dismay. I tried to tell her something of the new life 
into which she had entered, but she shook her head, saying : 

*'I can not understand it, that you and I should both be in 
the same place, when I thought my sins were forgiven and 
heaven secured to me by the blood of Jesus, while you — you 
were a Spiritualist! " This in a tone as though that word nec- 
essarily embodied the worst that could be said of any one. 

" But if my pastor were only here to explain it to me, or if 
I could find my Savior? " 

Poor, halt and blind soul, that can not walk save as it leans 
upon another, and can not see save through the perceptions or 
understanding of another ! It has a weary way before it ere it 
comes into the full light of spiritual truth. 

Another death bed made a strong impression upon me. It 
was that of a little child who closed its eyes peacefully and un- 
consciously upon the pain of earth life, and awoke to the pain- 
lessness and perfect joy of life immortal. It knew not that it 
had passed through any change, for loving faces still surrounded 
it, and loving tones fell upon its ears, and when the mother's 
arms were stretched out in the agony of sudden childlessness, 
her babe was laid tenderly in them, but she knew it not. In 
the night time when she awoke, and with scalding tears and 
aching heart called for her little one, it was placed in her bosom, 
and nestled its head where it had so often done of old, and its 
presence brought peace and comfort of which she was conscious, 
though she knew not their source. That little one is with her 
daily, its being still intertwined with hers, and dependent on 
mother love. Oh! bereaved mothers, believe this; your babes 
are not lost, they are with you learning the lesson of life from 
you. Then walk steadfastly and purely, that you offend not 
these little ones. 

In the great multitude which was perpetually passing from 
death unto life, I specially noticed two old men. They were 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 83 

equally aged, having reached nearly the extreme limit of human 
life, and bowed and tottering they came to the end of theu* 
jom-ney, and their feeble frames and whitened hairs were laid 
away in the bosom of mother earth, dust to return to dust, while 
their spirits passed to the new life beyond; and yet how differ- 
ent were the experiences of these two men on their first entrance 
into this life. One found himself with the infirmities of ag-e 
still clinging to him, his mental powers still weakened, and 
his spirit come to a halt, as it were, in its progress. He seemed 
still to belong to the past in the quality and method of his 
thoughts; his mind turned backwards rather than forwards; 
and even the Spirit- world was not altogether satisfactory to him, 
because it differed so materially from that future life which had 
taken form through early religious teachings, and became crys- 
tallized in his imagination. This could not be heaven, because 
this was not as he had pictured heaven to be ; and so, blind to 
the beauties which surrounded him, disregarding the advantages 
which were jDresented to him, and through force of long mental 
habit opposed to that progress which he found to be the law 
of immortality, he was querulous and discontented, and his 
thoughts sometimes even turned back regretfully to the earth- 
life. There at least he was at home ; there he had become fixed 
in his habits, and there was nothing to molest or upset him. 
Here there were continually disturbing elements, which forced 
him out of old grooves, whether he would or would not, and 
fau-ly shook him out of himself 

The other old man, equally feeble physically when he passed 
from earth, quickly lost the traces of age upon his entrance into 
spirit-land. His form speedily appeared erect, his step became 
buoyant, and a new light was kindled in his eyes. His age he 
had left behind him upon the earth, and it was buried in the 
grave with the mortal body. Only the shadow had fallen upon 
his spirit, but that was speedily dispelled, and in a short time 
he became as one in the prime of life. 

I could not understand the reason of the different experi- 



84 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

ences of these two men, and, as usual, I turned to my guide for 
enlightenment. 

"The reason is a very simple one," she replied, "and needs 
no explanation to those who have watched these men in their 
earthly existence." Then she proceeded to explain that one of 
them had lived for time only, the other for eternity. The one 
allowed his spirit to be subordinated to the body, and to share 
and be subject to its conditions. As his physical frame grew 
old, he allowed its weaknesses and deficiencies to leave their 
mark upon the spirit; and fettered and burdened as it thus was, 
it soon came to share that body's inertness and its waning pow- 
ers. Therefore he has entered this world old in spirit, and can 
only grow young again slowly and painfully. His youth will 
come back to him some day, but only through conscious eJSort 
on his part, — ^greater efEort tlian he would have been compelled 
to make in order to resist the encroachments of the material 
upon the spiritual, to wiiich he so weakly succumbed. 

The other kept his soul young, regarding time as only the 
first division of eternity. Though the bodily senses became 
dulled, the spiritual vision remained clear; though the period of 
bodily activity passed away, and he was compelled to step aside 
in the affairs of life, and let other and younger men take his 
place, he did not sit with his face turned towards the past re- 
gretting the long ago, but by strenuous effort preserved his men- 
tal vigor, kept pace with the times in his observations and opin- 
ions, and lived in an active enjoyment of the present, and a 
lively hope for, and belief in, the future. He kept his heart 
young to the last, and cultivated his affections and emotions as a 
religious duty, as something which not only bound him to his 
fellow creatures, but which should uplift him spiritually. Old 
age was but the husk which WTapped around but only partially 
disguised the soul within; and that soul when the worn-out 
frame fell away from it, and it entered its true home, rejoiced at 
its new-found freedom. The shadow which time and its hap- 
penings had cast upon it passed away forever, and he regained 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 85 

full possession of the youth which he had never wholly lost, but 
had treasured up all the more carefully within himself, as the 
outward and physical manifestations passed away one by one. 

There are many sad scenes connected with death which we 
are called upon to witness. Understanding as we do how few 
realize or even know of the intimate relations existinsr between 
the earth and the spirit-life, tlie agonized parting of friends is 
most painful to witness. There is such bitter grief, such depths 
of hopelessness in the hearts of the living, as they look for the 
last time into tlie mortal eyes of those who are called away to a 
higher life, and feel that the parting is a final one. It is our 
mission to comfort as well as we may these sorrow-stricken 
ones, and l:)ring them that hope and consolation which can only 
come through a belief and knowledge that the dear departed are 
ever near, and that death brings them into closer spirit com- 
munion. You should all work with us unceasingly to hasten 
tlie day wdien this knowledge will become the possession of all 
mankind, and when death will tlius be robbed of its sting and 
the grave of its victory. 

But aside from the natural and common causes for sadness 
at these final hours on earth, there are often special circum- 
stances which invest death beds with peculiar interest, solem- 
nity or horror. Sometimes an innocent creature who has lived a 
blameless life, as we judge of human lives, harming no one, and 
doing good to many, but wiio has neglected until too late to 
provide itself with a church passport to heaven, finds itself sud- 
denly called upon to render up its account. Then are the ap- 
prehensions and terrors of the dying one enough to move a heart 
of stone. Even we, who stand upon the other side and know 
how groundless they are, are compelled to bestow our dee2)est 
sympathies. So we press closely around, and take the released 
spirit in loving arms, and speak to it gentle words. "We lead it 
in green pastures and beside still waters, and our reward is to 
behold the wonder, the gratitude and the joy which suddenly 
take the place of fear and despair. Surely love is greater than 



86 A NAKRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

retribution, and has, a stronger hold upon the human heart. 

At another time perhaps a poor lost soul, weighed down by 
the terrible denunciations of a false theology, and possibly hav- 
ing a premonition of its real impending doom, hurls itself 
through the gateway of death with curses upon its lips, and 
fierce rebellion in its heart, defying the power which it can not 
resist. Then how solemn and how sad the awakening to the 
actualities of spirit-life. Darkness is to be its portion until it 
seeks for the light; but even in this outer gloom, where there is 
weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth, there is not that sense 
of utter abandonment of protecting care, that giving over to 
divine vengeance, that pitiless delight in the torments of suffer- 
ing souls, which are the crowning honors of the orthodox hell. 
No ! The spirit feels and knows that the hell in which it must 
exist is of its own making; that it is not the creation of a deity 
who saith "Vengeance is mine;'' and that divine love and divine 
pity brood over all, and still hold all in their keeping, ready to 
help and to lead from darkness into light, when the wickedness 
and tlie waywardness have worn themselves out, and the prodi- 
gal humbly says: "I will arise and go to my father." 

Let the churches write upon the portals of their infernal 
regions: "Who enters here leaves hope behind;" but though 
light, love and truth, and all else which bless and uplift the hu- 
man soul may be excluded wholly or in part from the lower 
spiritual spheres, one star beams steadily above them all, with a 
pure and perpetual flame — the star of Hope ! 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 87 



CHAPTER IX. 



FIT TEMPLES FOR HOLY SPIRITS. 

I had from the first been anxious to return to the earth and 
communicate with the dear friends I had left there ; and when I 
realized that I had not sufficient knowledge for that, I was still 
anxious to be permitted to go where such communication was 
held, and behold from the spirit side of life that which I had 
often beheld and taken part in from the earthly side. True to 
my belief in Spiritualism I had faithfully attended the weekly 
circle, and had received the various manifestations and com- 
munications witli more or less credence. Though my faith was 
founded on a rock and could not be shaken, there had, never- 
theless, always been a feeling of dissatisfaction, away down deep 
in my heart, that the words of inspiration which were addressed 
to us from the spirit splieres, were not more inspired, more 
worthy of the source from which they emanated, or were sup- 
posed to emanate. 

The time finally arrived when I was permitted to attend 
the very circle of which I had once been a member. A dozen 
or more persons sat in a semi-darkened room, clasping one 
another's hands. Around them were circles upon circles of 
spirits, of every grade, all anxiously awaiting an opportunity to 
communicate with those of earth. Of the mortals present three 
or four were recognized mediums, possessing diverse gifts. 
Two or more of these were attended by their little familiar 
spirits, through whose agency the communication of others was 
usually received. 



88 A NARRATIVE OP PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

Various motives had brought the remainder of the circle 
thither. Some were actuated merely by curiosity. One or two 
came with an earnest and honest desire to investigate. The 
larger number were simply anxious to hear from their departed 
friends ; but of the entire number not more than one or two were 
really seeking spiritual light and truth ; and each one attracted 
around him spirits whose moods and motives corresponded ^\ith 
his own. There were idle, mischievous spirits, bent on having 
a good time; there were earnest spirit investigators, ready to sec- 
ond the efforts of mortals; there were those who had recently 
departed from the earth, and were most eager to send back a 
word of comfort; there were liigli and pure spirits who sought 
an opportunity for impressing mortals with the grand truths 
which Spiritualism holds in reserve for those who truly desire 
them. 

A clairvoyant first spoke, and described the spiritual forms 
which were presented to her vision. As I listened to the de- 
scriptions, I who beheld the spirits described, looked at Marga- 
ret in amazement. A youth nearing manhood was represented 
as an infant, still dressed in earthly baby habiliments. A man 
apparently in the prime of life, grand and glorious in his pres- 
ence, was depicted as decrepid with age, and wearing an eartlily 
garb of a quarter of a century ago. In no case did age, ap- 
pearance or garments in any way correspond with the actual 
l^resence before me; and when a spirit from one of the lower 
spheres, with a mischievous leer upon his countenance, gained 
possession of the medium, and I heard a descrijjtion of Jesus 
with the crown of thorns upon his head, giving also the name of 
Jesus, my disgust and indignation had reached their height. 

I turned to Margaret with impatient angry words : " Was 
clairvoyance after all only a delusion ? " 

" No, my child. You do not understand. Let me explain. 
Neither mortal eyes, nor spirit eyes in mortal form can behold 
spirit. It is too ethereal to be perceived. But for purposes of 
identification it is possible to impress the medium's brain so that 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 89 

he believes that he sees ; and in order to make the identification 
complete, this impression is almost invariably of the spirit as it 
appeared while still dressed in mortality, the impression corres- 
ponding with the memory of friends. It is not a delusion; it is 
not even a deception. But those who are content to stop at this 
phase of spirit manifestation, and seek nothing further, know 
nothing whatever of Spiritualism. They accept the guarantee 
for the thing itself; that which is offered in testimony of truth 
for the truth." 

"But why was that deception about Jesus permitted? " 

"Truly that was a deception; but when you visited the low- 
er spheres, was it not explained to you that spirits of a low 
grade, who have no clear perceptions of right and wrong, take 
pleasure in deluding humanity? It affords them rare amuse- 
ment. The ignorant and credulous offer themselves as willing 
victims to this class of spirits." 

"But how can humanity protect itself from the impositions 
of this class?" 

"The way is very plain. Let mediums themselves in their 
personal characters rise above them, and they can not approach 
them for purposes of evil ; and on the other hand, let mankind 
at large bring to the study of these phenomena its reason and its 
judgment. Let it not take all spiritual utterances on faith, sim- 
ply because they are spiritual in their source. Let it discrimin- 
ate between the good and the evil, the wise and the foolish, that 
which if accepted will benefit, and that which will prove in- 
jurious. But to return to the subject of mediums, study this 
clairvoyant, and see what she is." 

I did so, and her character was reveiiled to me, showing me 
that she was not only ignorant and credulous, but with no clear 
convictions of duty, no just conceptions of the importance of her 
mission as a medium of communication between the two w^orlds. 
The display of clairvoyant powers concluded, one spirit after 
another took possession of her organism for a brief time. The 
communications of those who wished to speak to earth friends 



90 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

were for the most part brief and unsatisfactory, though several 
names w^ere correctly given. Why was this? In answer, the 
power was given to me to perceive in part the method of com- 
munication. The impression was made upon, and the work per- 
formed through, the brain of the medium, and this being dull 
and untrained, responded but faintly to the touch of spirit 
hands. One of the higher band of spirits found opportunity to 
attempt communication through her; but what a look of dis- 
may and discouragement came over him, when he heard his 
brilliant thoughts dulled, the truths he would utter obscured, 
his meaning perverted, and his very language murdered, in 
passing through the channel of this woman's intellect. Disap- 
pointed, he soon ceased his efforts, and again a degraded spirit 
stepped in, and with scarcely a break in the discourse, proceed- 
ed at some length with a jargon of ideas, and a grammar elim- 
inated of all recognized rules; and when he concluded, he an- 
nounced the name of one of the most brilliant statesmen Amer- 
ica has ever known. This name was received with a rapture of 
delight by a large number of those present, while the boon com- 
panions of the mischievous invisible were equally expresssive of 
their pleasure. Oh, it was rare fun for them. 

Then a second medium was controlled by one or more spir- 
its. I could look into his heart and see good impulses there, 
but also impurity and lack of high principle. He, too, though 
not so much the plaything and jest of mischievous immortals, 
drew around him only a lower class of spirits, and nothing of any 
real spiritual value was received through his mediumship ; and as 
I studied him, I saw that it was impossible that there ever would 
be, until he was radically changed. This instrument, like the 
other, gave forth only weak and discordant notes, even when 
played upon by master spirits, because it was imperfect and out 
of tune. 

A third medium opened her lips in her turn, and I waited 
anxiously to see and hear what would be the message, and how 
delivered. Again I was given that inner perception of charac- 



4 



AFTER THE CHA.NGB CALLED DEATH. 91 

ter. I saw a woman of weakly good impulses, superstitious in 
her nature, and with a zeal for her faith which was only excelled 
by her ignorance. Only partially controlled by unseen powers, 
she allowed her eagerness and imagination to run away with her. 
She mistook her own impulses for genuine impressions from the 
Spirit-world, and that which she gave was a medley of truth and 
falsehood, reality and delusion, — the whole so debased by igno- 
rance and misconception as to be utterly worthless ; yet the wo- 
man did not intentionally deceive. She was a victim of her 
own zeal and her own mental delusions, while other victims, en- 
shrouded in the same mental and spiritual darkness as herself, 
listened intently and even reverently to what she said, and ac- 
cepted her words without question. 

"You see," said Margaret, "what we have to contend with 
in our attempts to establish communication between the material 
and spiritual worlds. Not only must man look through a glass 
darkly in his attempts to behold the light, but the glass is too 
often unnecessarily obscured by ignorance, folly and evil. We 
need patience." 

Almost disheartened, I then turned my attention to the 
fourth and last medium, to see if any hope were left for the 
communication of truth from the Spirit- world. As I studied 
her from my vantage ground of the Spirit-world, from which 
we can look through the disguises of the flesh, I found that she 
was a woman of quick perceptions, keen discernment, true to the 
heart's core, and fully appreciating the privileges and duties 
which fell to her because of her peculiar gift. I had known all 
these four mediums while I was still in the flesh, and had gained 
a tolerably accurate estimate of their different characters, but had 
never realized as now, the important bearings these characters 
and acquirements had upon their mediumship. As I still re- 
garded the fourth speaker, I noted that she was surrounded 
only by bright spirits. As others approached her, they seemed 
restrained at a certain distance by some invisible barrier which, 
try as they would, they could not pass. She was herself true, 



92 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

and therefore as a medium she uttered words of truth. She was 
intelligent, and did not unwittingly pervert the truth. All her 
desires and asi^irations seemed to be directed heavenward, and 
the cry of her soul seemed to be : " Oh, make me worthy — make 
me more worthy of the mission to which I am appointed ! " And a 
bright band of angels, as if in response, encircled her head with 
a glowing diadem of stars, while their hands were extended 
aljove her in benediction. Even she was not perhaps fully cap- 
able of becoming the messenger of communication from the 
brightest and best of those who have passed to the Spirit-world 
from the earth life ; but then how few there are — where can they 
be found? — who are thus in all things capable"! 

But still another shock Avas in store for me. Words were 
spoken in which there was much wisdom — words which were 
not unworthy of almost any source ; but when a name illustrious 
in the annals of literature, whose possessor had passed to spirit- 
life more than a generation ago, was given, I felt my heart sink 
within me. I knew the spirit thus named was not present. I 
had already sufficient knowledge to feel assured that he passed 
onward to a sphere whose inhabitants do not return to earth. 
Was there, then, no dependence to be placed in the utterances of 
mediums? Were even the best liable to self-deception? Marga- 
ret, ever watchful, divined my thoughts. 

"Look," said she, pointing upward. As I obeyed her I be- 
held, or seemed to behold — for if it was not sight, it was a per- 
ception as strong as the sense of seeing — a succession of links 
extending from sphere to sphere, and from spirit to spirit, and 
on this chain of links the thought has been conveyed, originat- 
ing far heavenward, and descending frojn spirit to spirit, until 
it had finally found utterance on earth. Oh! these wonderful 
spiritual bonds wiiich can bring earth in communication with 
the higher spheres, and bind all together as a perfect whole ! 

On this occasion I realized as I had never before the diffi- 
culties which beset the Spirit-world in its attempts to establish 
communication with earth. Mortals themselves are very igno- 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 93 

rant of the necessary conditions. Then their imperfect natures 
draw around them more or less degraded spirits, who naturally 
interfere with, if they do not utterly thwart, the efforts of the 
higher and purer ones. Then mediumship being, as it might be 
said, an accident of the physical and mental organization, medi- 
ums are as a rule quite unprepared for the work required of 
them. Untrained, too often the reverse of spiritual in their na- 
tures, too often without a seniee of moral responsibility, from 
such harsh, discordant instruments, though their keys be touch- 
ed by angel fingers, mortals can never hope to hear the melodies 
of heaven. The first need of Spiritualism is conscientious, pure 
minded mediums, fully recognizing the grave responsibilities 
resting upon them, and seeking to fit themselves in every way 
for their work. 

How clearly I see now, as I did not see in earth life, that 
the more fully mediums cultivate themselves in every direction, 
intellectually as well as spiritually, do they lessen the labor of 
their spirit visitants who have a work to do on earth, and can 
only perform it satisfactorily by the help of mortal agenc3\ 
The wiser, purer and truer is the medium, not only will a higher 
class of spirits be attracted, but truth itself will be less adulter- 
ated in passing through his or her intelligence. As water to the 
spectator apparently takes on the color of the glass which con- 
tains it, so must the nature of the medium tinge and modify all 
that to which he or she gives utterance. 

At last the supreme moment had come. I was permitted to 
attempt the control of a human organism. That which seemed 
so easy, I found very difficult, but I was kindly instructed and 
assisted until I finally succeeded in uttering a few words, and in 
joartially establishing my identity. From one point my effort 
was very unsatisfactory, and not at all what I had pictured to 
myself while in earth life that it should be. Then I had re- 
solved that I would make no blunders, utter no foolishness, and 
that my tests should be perfect ; but I fell far short of my earth- 
born intentions. Perhaps I may reach them in the future. I 



94 A NARRATIVE 01? PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

shall try. There was, however, supreme satisfaction in having 
been allowed to make the effort, and in finding that I was even 
partially successful. To succeed at all now, meant greater suc- 
cess at some future period. 

There was one incident which I came very near forgetting 
to relate. Among the many spirits of nearly all grades which 
thronged to the spirit side of this earthly stance, after a time 
there entered one who seemed unlike all the rest. Though he 
bore the outward form of manhood, he seemed almost to belong 
to a lower order of beings. Upon his face was a vacant expres- 
sion, as if intelligence were nearly lacking, and in its stead was 
almost the look of a wild beast. He seemed scarcely to see or 
hear what was going on around him. Indeed he must have been 
blind and deaf to most of the spiritual happenings; but crouch- 
ing down in an abject attitude, he remained silent and motion- 
less. Was he conscious of what was passing? If he was, for 
some time he gave no sign, and I presently became satisfied that 
the direct spirit utterances fell on deaf ears. But after awhile a 
dull curiosity seemed to be awakened in what the mediums 
were saying. It was evident that he heard them, and perhaps 
indistinctly saw them. Neither the reprehensible deceits of the 
lying spirits, nor the discouraging failm-es of the true ones, 
seemed to make more than a surface impression upon him. But 
finally, when through the agency of the only worthy medium 
present, beautiful truths were being uttered, his face took on a 
new expression. I was impressed to watch him intently. He 
looked perplexed, as if some faint, far off memory was strug- 
gling to the surface. The words had recalled something which 
he had so long forgotten that it had almost become to him as 
though it had never happened. The struggle went on, and at 
last memory was triumphant. An expression of intense pain 
swept over his face, and this was followed by fearful passion. 
What was it? I could not tell. Was it a far-off innocent child- 
hood and of a time before he had all but murdered his own soul, 
and thus sent it to a long sleep? No ; I could not tell. But, 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. D5 

snapping and snarling like a wild animal, and uttering broken 
sentences as of half forgotten but terrible oaths, the man crept 
away with hideously contorted motions, not even seeking to 
rise to his feet, but using all fours. The spectacle was a horri- 
ble one. 

" You have beheld the first awakening of a soul from its 
death-like lethargy," said Margaret, who, too, had witnessed the 
scene. "It can never sleep again, but through agonies untold 
must begin to work out its own redemption. He will be at- 
tracted hither again and again, each time to retreat in the same 
fury of debasing passion, until after many times he will become 
calmer, and will stay and listen, and will hear a few words, per- 
haps, which shall shed a little spiritual light upon him; and 
from merely feeling he will begin to think. He has a long and 
weary way before him, for he is just setting out upon the road ; 
but though he knows it not, his face is turned toward the light 
— toward the light only — it does not reach him yet." 

Poor, lost human soul ! Oh ! the outer darkness where it 
has so long dwelt ! Oh ! the weeping, wailing and gnashing of 
teeth which must be its portion before it finds itself in the light 
of divine truth and warmed by divine love ! 



96 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 



CHAPTER X. 



THE FIELD IS THE WORLD. 



At last I have found my work. It was not appointed for 
me arbitrarily, as is so often done on earth, I did not even 
choose it, but I recognized it as my work, because, in spite of 
many misgivings, I have found myself specially suited to it; and 
as I begin to realize the scope of this work, how many things 
this realization makes plain which were obscured before. How 
it untangles the threads of life, and shows a i)urpose and plan 
where all heretofore has seemed j)urposeless. It is not my mis- 
sion to be a ministering angel to the lost and wandering spirits 
in the lower and darker spheres. I am not yet pure enough 
and wise enough for that. But I have borne the burdens of 
humanity. I know what it suffers, and how it is tried and 
tempted. I know its battles with self. I have charity for its 
failures because I have myself failed so many times; and, thank 
the overruling love and goodness, I know something of its vic- 
tories. I realize my kinship to this humanity, and with it lies 
my work. Yes, though my home is no longer there, but is 
eternal in the eavens, my labor is still upon earth. There I shall 
be permitted yet to do the many things which, through weari- 
ness or possibly disinclination, I left undone during my mortal 
existence. How grateful I am for this. To every one is not 
given the blessed opportunity of setting right the wrongs for 
which he is responsible, repairing the failures and atoning for 
the errors of his past, as it is given to me. 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 97 

I may not live my own life over again, but by the cxj)cri- 
ences of that life, gained through weariness, pain and bitter 
anguish, I may help and bless other lives, lighten others' bur- 
dens, whisper words of wisdom into listening ears, and lay my 
hands in benediction upon those bowed down with trouble or 
affliction. Could any work be more welcome to me ? Surely 
not, and gladly I go back to do it. I shall speak to you; 
tlirougli the hands of your mediums I sliall write to you ; I shall 
be with you in your labors; and in your hours of happiness and 
rest I shall still stand by you trying to lift your minds from 
things temporal to things spiritual. When temptation conies to 
you, I shall not desert you, but shall bid you be strong and 
remain true to your better natures. But if you hear me not, 
and' weakly yield, shall I turn away from you in contempt and 
scorn ? No, a thousand times no ! By my own sins have I 
learned that charity which suffereth long; and in your hours of 
completest spiritual degradation shall I strive to come nearest 
you, clasping my arms about you in. a loving pity, and seeking 
to bring you back to your better, nobler selves. Truly there is 
more joy in the Spirit- world over the one sinner that repenteth, 
than over the ninety -and-nine that go not astray. 

I am still weak, I am still ignorant. The future holds out 
to me an ever-broadening vista of knowledge and experience, in 
contrast with which my personality seems to shrink smaller and 
smaller. But the years of earth-life have brought me some wis- 
dom, and that I can utilize. Though still in the ABC class of 
spiritual wisdom, looking backward as I now do over the past, 
by the means of the newly-learned spirit alphabet, I am begin- 
ning to spell out the meaning of all my earthly experiences. 
While I was still on earth many of tliem were as if written in 
hieroglyphics which it was impossible for me to decipher; but 
with the heavenly key I am beginning to read them, and to 
comprehend their meaning; and, with a full remembrance of all 
the weariness, the bitterness and the anguish, I can say to-day 
that, even if I could, I would undo nothing in that past. Each 



98 A NARRATIVE OB* PERSONAL £XPERIEKCES 

experience has its place, meaning and purpose ; and I expect to 
see all this clearer and clearer as eternity rolls on. Oh ! a won- 
derful and solemn thing is human life, with results which are 
never ending. 

It is not the j^urpose of this letter to describe to you in 
what manner I have finally learned how to reach and communi- 
cate with those still in the flesh. Suffice it to say that I have 
done so. Neither will I weary you with personal matters by 
describing my ministrations to my own special loved ones, and 
what delight they have brought to me, what consolation to 
them. But though I shall never forget those whoin I have left 
behind, and shall always be drawn to them by the ties of spirit- 
ual kinship, as ever I was by ties of the flesh, my heart is 
growing large enough to include all humanity in its love and 
compassion, and my field of labor is wherever there ai*e human 
souls needing help or comfort. 

There are many of us to whom this work is given, and to us 
it seems the best and noblest work which can be done — prob- 
ably because it is best suited to us. Perhaps some day when I 
have grown in wisdom and righteousness, and when my knowl- 
edge of the spirit life shall be perfect enough to warrant it, I 
shall be promoted, not only to a higher sphere, but to a higher 
field of labor, and shall find my work all here, bidding farewell 
to earth forever. Such a result does not now seem to me desir- 
able ; bnt when the time comes I shall desire it because I shall 
be prepared for it. 

There is one thing I wish to speak of, though it may appear 
somewhat out of place in this chapter; but it has not seemed to 
come in appropriately anywhere else. One day my boys, my 
own beautiful boys, said to me : 

" Our beautiful mother I " 

Beautiful! How strangely the word sounded, applied to 
me. I had been beautiful once, but that was long ago. 

I chid them for their loving flattery, for I still carried the 



After The ctiANGE called death. 90 

picture in my mind of the gray hair, the dull eyes, and the thin, 
lined cheeks and brow, out of which all youth and beauty had 
long ago vanished, which had been the semblance of my earthly 
self. Lovingly they assured me they were not flattering me, 
and in proof they brought me a mirror, and I beheld myself 
once more. Myself, and yet not myself! There were the gen- 
eral outlines of the features, just as I had long been familiar 
with them; but the wrinkles of care were smoothed away ; the 
traces of age had vanished; and more than the beauty of youth 
— a beauty of the spirit— illuminated them. Humbly and grate- 
fully I recognized the fact that I was indeed beautiful, with a 
beauty upon wliich time should cast no shadow, nor sorrow 
mar, and to which eternity should bring still greater perfection. 
What more can I say to you now ? Oh ! there is so much 
still untold, that it seems useless to begin the telling. I shall 
speak and write to you again; I have already assured you of 
that. But now I bring this long letter to a close. I only pur- 
posed to tell my first experiences in spirit life, and these I have 
narrated here as faithfully as the conditions of spirit control will 
permit me. More obstacles than you can realize have stood in 
the way of my making myself perfectly understood. First of 
all, there is the difficulty of expressing ideas and describing 
events which have no counterpart in mortal existence. 

In many ways I know I have rendered myself liable to 
misapprehension. Thus, when I speak of different places, of 
going and coming, my meaning has not been the same that you 
would attach to those phrases. Each one here creates his own 
surroundings. His heaven or hell proceeds from within himself 
outward until it surrounds him like an actual locality. Those 
who dwell in darkness do so because their souls are dark and 
send out no rays of light, I did not visit differently located 
spheres, in the same sense that you would understand the term ; 
but was permitted to view darkened spiritual states, and made 
to realize what was the effect upon those who existed in such 
conditions. 



100 A NARRATIVE OF PERSONAL EXPERIENCES 

The senses, too, play a subordinate part here. They are as 
keen as in earth-life, but there is a newly developed sense or 
spiritual perception which outranks them all, and by means of 
this many of om* impressions are received, and much of our 
knowledg-e acquired. I cannot describe this sense to you 
because you would not comprehend, and can only approximate 
its effects. 

Then there have been other obstacles in the way of a 
complete expression of what I would wish to say. Imperfect 
mediumship is one of the greatest of tliese. In the hap-hazard 
way in which mediums are developed, there are very few indeed 
who are capable of becoming passive amanuenses for spirit con- 
trol. The medium's thoughts and opinions, and especially 
modes of expression, will always creep in more or less,, giving a 
color and character of greater or less degree to all that which 
purports to proceed from the Spirit-world. Then it has not 
always been possible to hold the same strength of control, and 
as this has weakened, expression has become more difficult. 

But with all these drawbacks, I have succeeded in saying 
substantially that which I wished to say ; to describe to you the 
Spirit- world as I have found it, and to seek to impress upon 
your minds the fundamental religious truths of Spiritualism, 
that as a man is on earth, the same will he find himself upon his 
entrance into immortal life, and reward shall be given to every 
man according as his work shall be. 

Spiritualism is the religion of personal responsibility, of 
never-dying hope, and of eternal progress. It is the religion 
which meets every need and every trial of life, holding a clearly 
burning beacon to light the way; and as men live up to the 
highest knowledge of truth within their hearts, newer and 
greater truths shall be given them, and they shall be led by 
spirit hands, spirit voices shall whisper in their ears, and their 
souls, shall be attuned to the harmony of heaven. The knowledge 
of the spirit is the fountain of living waters which flows from 
the great central throne whence proceed infinite v/isdom and 



AFTER THE CHANGE CALLED DEATH. 101 

infinite love. The Spirit and the bride say, Come; and let him 
that heareth say, Come ; and let him that is athirst Come ; and 
whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely. 

May the Spirit of Peace find its way to all yom* hearts, and 
abide with you now and forever. 



Troth Wears no Mask, Bows at no Human Shrine, Seeks Neither Place nor Applaose; 
She only Asks a Hearing. 



PSYCHICAL RESEARCH. 



PROOF OF THE CONTINUITY OF LIFE. 



h EeligiD-Pisfliid Jiria 



S!STikB]:.ISHX:D 1865. 



JNO. O. BUNDY, Editor and Proprietor, Ohicago. 



A Paper for all wlio Sincerely and Intelligently Seek Truth 
Without Regard to Sect or Party. 



PRESS, PULPIT, AND PEOPLE PROCLAIM ITS MERITS. 



Concurrent Commendations from Widely Opposite Sources. 



PRESS. 



Superior to all other publications of its clsiss.— Monona (Iowa) Gazette. 

Seems disposed to discuss questions in excellent temper.— Chicago Inter- 
Ocean. 

Seems to have got the inside track among the religious weeklies.— OTiicafiro 
Times. 

Ablest and most representative of the Spiritist organs.— Baltimore Catho- 
lic Mirror. 

One of the very best. It is so because of Its scientific methods.— Tfocxi- 
land {Gal.) Mail. 

Mr. Bundy is the best equipped editor in his peculiar line of journalism 
In the coxxnitY. —Chicago Daily News. 

Vigorous, sturdy and outspoken. * * Has ably advocated Spiritualism 
proper. — Medium and Daybreak, London. 

Is the ablest Spiritualist paper in America. * * Mr. Bundy has earned 
the respect of all lovers of the truth, by his sincerity and courage.— Boston 
Evening Transcript. 

Col. Bundy is not a fanatic. * * Exposes all frauds with relentless vig- 
or. * * There isn't a man in the universe who doesn't want to believe In 
immortality.— iVletw York Evening Telegram. 

The JouENAL endeavors in Its peculiar sphere, to exhibit Spiritualism in 
forms by which a scientific person can grasp and comprehend It; and the 
subjects are presented with a force, clearness and carefulness which will 
commend them to thoughtful consideroXiou.— Medical Tribune, New York. 



PEOPLE, PULPIT, PLATFORM. 

I am entirely satisfied with It.— Eugene Orowell, M. D. 

I read your paper every week with great interest.— ^. W. Thomas, D.D., 
Chicago. 

I wish you the fullest success In your courageous course— i2. Htber New- 
tan, D. D. 

A high-class paper eminently worthy of support.— J. H. McVicker, Mc- 
Vicker's Theatre, Chicago. 

Of over forty papers which come to my table the Joubnal Is the best. - 
—E. P. Powell, Clinton, N. Y. 

Good for you! Never man in your ranks did half so well, that I know 
of. Brave it is and v\ghl.—Rev. Robert Colly er. New York CVy. 

I have long felt to thank the Journal for its careful weighing of facts 
bearing upon the philosophy of Spiritualism,— £i^2;a6(^^^ Lowe Watson. 

As an old subscriber to the Journal I value and appreciate It, and am 
sure it is doing a grand work.— iodfy Caithness, Duchesse de Pomar, Paris. 

Your paper is one of my great consolations. I feel that you are an earn- 
est and honest seeker of linth.— Chevalier Sebastiano Fenzi, Florence, Italy. 

I congratulate you on the management of the paper. * * i endorse 
your position as to the investigation of the phenomena.— jSamwei Watson, 
D. D.. Memphis, Tenn. 

Its general character, candor, dignity and manifest devotion to truth, 
are attractive to cultured minds, even though it may cross their prejudices.— 
Lyman C. Howe, Lecturer. 

Your course has made Spiritualism respected by the secular press as It 
never has been before, and compelled an honorable recognition.— ITtufeow 
Tattle, Auth/or and Lecturer. 

A grand paper! I am fully In sympathy with its objects and alms; It is a 
tremendous power for good.— J)/*. Joseph Beats, President New England Spir- 
itualists' Camp Meeting Association. 

I have a most thorough respect for the Journal, and believe its editor 
and proprietor is disposed to treat the whole subject of Spiritualism fairly.— 
Rev. M. J. Savage ( Unitarian) Boston. 

As an exponent of vigorous free thought and western enterprise, it stands 
foremost in excellence and power. It has many warm friends In this coun- 
try.— J. J. Morse, Editorial Writer and Lecturer, London. 

I cannot perceive why any man, who has a due regard for the welfare of 
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Bench of the State of Illinois, and now one of the Judges oj the Appellate Court. 

Col. Bundy has made his paper the ablest exponent of the phenomena, 
philosophy, and ethics of Modem Spiritualism to be found in this or any 
other country. His Integrity Is inflexible, and his observations In spiritual 
phenomena, In the main, microscopically accurate.— Dr. N. B. Wolfe, Cin- 
cinnati, in Aj/pendix to Startling Facts in Modern Spiritualism, pp. 601-3. 

* * * I learn much from Its pages. The Invariable manliness and 
straightforwardness of tone of its original matter are roost refreshing. 
Whatever mistakes of detail it may make, those qualities give it an enviable 
and eminent place in American journalism.- Dr. Wm. James, Professor of 
Philosophy, Harvard University ; Member American Society for Psychical 
Research. 

The Eeligio-Philosophical Journal Is a representative of clean Spir- 
itualism. Though 1 do not admit and believe all Spiritualists claim for their 
belief, yet I think there is a great deal In Spiritualism to be found out. If a 
man can manifest himself here, he can. under certain conditions hereafter.— 
Remarks of W. T.Harris, LL.D.. during the discussion on Immortality at 
the Concord Summer School of -Philosophy, August Ist^ 1884. 



PUBLISHER'S STATEMENT. 

The ReligioPhilosophical Journal, In the estimation of a large pro- 
portion of the leading authorities on Spiritualism, stands pre-eminent as a 
fearless, independent, judicially fair advocate of Spiritualism. It is admired 
and respected not only by reflecting, critical Spiritualists, but by the large 
constituency just outside the spiritualistic ranks, who are looking longingly 
and hopefully toward Spiritualism as the beacon light which may guide to 
higher, broader grounds, and give a clearer insight to the soul's capabilities 
and destiny. It is disliked by some very good but very weak people; it is 
hated by all who aim to use Spiritualism as a cloak to serve their selfish pur- 
poses. The Journal has received more general notice, and more frequent 
and higher commendations from Intelligent sources, regardless of sect or 
party, than any other Spiritualist or liberal paper ever published; the records 
will confirm this. 

The Journal is uncompromisingly committed to the Scientijic Method, 
In Its treatment of the Plienomena of Spiritualism, being fully assured that 
this is the only safe ground on which to stand. Firmly convinced by rigid in- 
vestigation, that lite continues beyond the grave and that spirits can and do 
return and manifest at times and under certain conditions, the Journal 
does not fear the most searching criticism and crucial tests in sustaining its 
position. 



Some Reasons TFliy Rational, Broad-HIinded People 
fiike tlie Religio-Pliilosopliical Journal. 

The Journal lends Its active support to every scheme adapted to the 
amelioration of man. 

The Journal is misectarian, non-partizan, thoroughly Independent, 
never neutral, wholly free from cliques and clans. 

The Journal Is ever ready to back an honest medium with all its power, 
and its bottom dollar; it is equally ready to drive into the bottom of the last 
ditch every persistent, unrepenting swindler. 

The Journal Is published In the interests of Spiritualism and the gen- 
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The Journal opens its columns to all who have something to say and 
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